Second Chances
by ArianaKir
Summary: Post OC NWN 2. The heroine of Crossroad Keep turned on her companions during the final battle with the King of Shadows. She was killed for her betrayal. Now she finds herself waking up on a red plain, with no one in sight. Will she find her way back?
1. Written into the Dead Book

Written into the Dead Book

Darkness. Cold and absolute and terrifying in its possibilities. No breath struggled here; no sounds invaded the sanctity of my mind. There was just the utter conviction that I would soon arise and find myself on a barren plain, pocked with rocks and scrubby trees. A cold red glow emanating from the very ground would be all the light that I would see. It consumed me, this vision of another plane. I knew that I had died.

Thump. I landed hard on the ground. Then a strange sensation – something akin to laughter bubbled up through my chest and I found myself gasping for breath. It was at that point that I realized I hadn't been breathing for quite some time. My eyes still closed, I relished in the act of breathing. My diaphragm contracting and expanding and filling my lungs with air. But the air was foul. There was a stench I couldn't name filling my nostrils. It smelled of sulfur and phosphorus and something else, and the very air itself seemed thicker than I was used to.

Images came unbidden to my mind. The look of sheer hate in Casavir's eyes as he swung his hammer at me, connecting with my head. As I fell down, the smirk of satisfaction that had replaced the hatred had chilled me to the depths of my paltry little soul. I had betrayed him; betrayed them all in that final act of cowardice before the King of Shadows. Where ever I was now, it was probably someplace I deserved to be.

I opened my eyes and sat up, feeling the spot on my head that Casavir's hammer had connected with. There was no gaping hole or indentation there. A brief inspection of the rest of my body showed there were no wounds of any sort. I must have healed. Then I took a look around, and my heart nearly stopped.

A barren wasteland stretched out into the distance. The plain was covered in rock outcroppings and dotted with small scraggly trees that seemed to be barely clinging to life. Mountains loomed on all sides, but seemed to be far away through the thick haze of the atmosphere. The sky was strange – there was no sun, or moon, or any type of light giving body at all. The red glow that filled the air came from the very ground I sat on. Things moved on the plain, but they were either too far away or too small to be discerned.

Not too far away was a small hill; rising above the plain enough to give a vantage point. If I could make my way there, then I would be able to see the landscape and maybe find a town or something. Maybe get enough information to figure out where I was and what I should do next. But as I thought about where I was, a chill descended on me that I couldn't shake.

The walk wasn't long, but by the time I reached the top of that hill I was out of breath. There was something funny about the air here: it felt as if I couldn't move enough air through my lungs to satisfy my body. And it was heavy, so the very act of breathing itself took more energy than I was used to. Not to mention the odor! Sulfur and phosphorous tangled together with hot rock and ashes. I wasn't sure I would ever get used to it. I wasn't sure I wanted to.

The rocks on the hill afforded some shade in which to hide, for which I was grateful. Off in the distance there seemed to be a village of some sort: houses were huddled together inside some sort of wall, and there were creatures moving around in the streets. It looked like it was about a two hour walk from here. Without any celestial objects in the sky, I couldn't tell if the light was going to fade any time soon or not. I'd have to take my chances on the plain. Luckily I was well versed in the field of stealth. Walking into town unseen shouldn't be a problem.

I began the descent down the hill and immediately had to dive for cover behind a rock as something enormous passed by below me. The creature towered above the surrounding rocks and had a lean form. Its body oozed tar and left behind a trail of the black murk. Luckily the rock that was closest to me was enough to hide behind. The look in that thing's eyes made me sure that had it spotted me, I'd be dead. Again.

Once it had passed and was well out of sight, I cautiously began my descent. Disaster had been narrowly averted, but it shocked me into being more careful about my surroundings. There were things crawling on the planes, and while none of them had the look of that tarry one, none of them were likely to be helpful in this place.

The trip across the valley was agonizingly slow as I dashed from one rock to another in an attempt to stay hidden. I was afraid to use any of my spells here, as I didn't know how they'd work. And it was possible that the natives could sense magic, and then I'd be caught and done for. It wouldn't do to die my first day in the afterlife.

Three hours later I stumbled into the confines of the town I'd seen from the hill. The closer I got to the town, the more civilized things appeared. A road popped up out of nowhere and the rocks seemed less haphazard than on the plains. A few hundred meters from the village I stopped trying to hide. It had become impossible anyway – there was nothing to hide behind and I had never mastered hiding in plain sight.

The village was surrounded by a wall made of bone. At first glance, I thought it was white washed clay or stucco. But as I drew closer to the front gate, I realized my mistake. The bones of something very large had gone into the construction of the wall. I really didn't want to know. By now I had a fair idea of where I'd wound up, and I wasn't too surprised. The only question burning in my mind was what I was going to do about it. For now, I'd find a place to hole up until I could figure that out.

"Halt," said one of the people guarding the gate. He sounded bored. "State your intentions and where you've come from." He glowered at me, his black armor glinting in the uncertain light. The helm he wore on his head disguised his features so I couldn't tell what his mental state was.

"My intentions are my own, but I don't plan to cause any problems. As for where I came from, it was just over that hill out there." I casually flung my hand back in the direction I'd come from, "I would really like a drink." I stood there with my arms crossed in front of my chest, hoping they'd just let me in.

The guard looked to his friend and they both shook their heads.

"Another petitioner."

His buddy said, "The second today. What? Is there some war going on that we don't know about?" His last question was directed at me, but it was plain from the look on his face he didn't expect me to answer. "Go on in. But if I find you've been making trouble, you'll be dead."

The streets of the town were wide, and the dust from the ground blew about the buildings, coating them gray. The people here were sullen and unfriendly, but then I hadn't expected anything else. They looked all around them, as if they were waiting for a knife to come out of the shadows and end them. In all reality, they probably were. If my thinking was correct, I'd landed myself on Carceri – the prison plane. Nobody here trusted anyone else. And there was no way out: not for people like me, that is.

Halfway down the main street there was a sign out in front of a building with a picture of a bed and a mug. I stepped into the inn, hoping for a drink and a room. What I found was the second biggest surprise of the day.


	2. The Enemy you Know

**The Enemy you Know**

The interior of the inn was dark and musty smelling. Sputtering torches lit up the place with a fickle light that played off the shadows and made them seem alive. The bar gleamed black, and the person behind it appeared to be human. On the wall behind him were bottles of booze and glasses neatly lined up in rows. Behind that was the stuffed head of some demon. The head was black and had large horns curving back from its brow. One eye dominated the face, and it was a brilliant orange color. It looked like it might still be alive – its eye seemed to follow me as I approached the bar.

"What'll you have?" asked the barkeep.

"What have you got?" I said as I swung myself onto a stool. The demon head on the wall was giving me a serious case of the creeps. I surreptitiously glanced around. It seemed to be the only mounted head on the wall. Thank the gods for small favors.

"We've got just about everything, as long as you like whiskey." He smiled a gap toothed smile, his teeth black and rotten in his mouth. He absentmindedly wiped down the gleaming black surface of the bar with a rag that truly deserved the name.

"Whiskey it is, then."

He plopped down a glass that looked like it hadn't seen water or soap in three years and poured some whiskey from a bottle. As he moved to put the bottle away, I grabbed his arm. "Leave the bottle." I said.

He held out his hand and I placed a few gold coins into it. I stood up, grabbing the glass and the bottle, planning on finding someplace secluded to sit. Then it hit me: a prickling sensation along the base of my neck, moving down my spine. Someone was watching me. I used to get that feeling all the time back in Faerun, whenever Bishop was around. I swung around, scanning the booths along the wall.

He sat there, halfway down the wall from the door. His eyes locked onto mine in that predatory gaze of his. He made a gesture that could have been interpreted a hundred different ways, but I knew it to mean I was to join him, if I liked. I thought about it for a microsecond. You know what they say – the enemy you know is better than the enemy you don't. So I walked across the floor and sat across from him at that dirty table, never taking my eyes off him for a moment.

OOO

Chance Meetings

"Wondered if you'd show up, Captain," he sneered, downing his drink in one gulp.

"Bishop. Can't say I'm surprised to see you here."

He looked me right in the eye and leaned forward a little. I wasn't sure, but he didn't seem quite his confident self right then. He looked a little, well, discomfited.

"Where ever _here_ is. Do you know where we are?" His voice was low – almost a whisper. He obviously didn't want to let on that he didn't know what had happened. I couldn't really blame him. I'm sure he expected to wake up in one of the hells. That would have been scary enough. But to rise up from the dead here was something else entirely. It didn't really look like what you'd expect one of the hells to look like, and yet it didn't seem as if you'd miraculously been spared and sent to someplace a little better, either.

I laughed. "We're in Carceri. It's not hell, but it's close. In some ways – it's worse. They call it the prison plane. It's the place where betrayers go when they die. That's why we're here, anyway." I polished off my drink and poured myself another. I was going to need the courage the alcohol would provide, if I was going to deal with being in Carceri and finding Bishop all at the same time. I was still handling his betrayal of me quite poorly, even though it hadn't been unexpected.

"Hmph," he said, his hand holding his chin. His eyes never left me as I drank. They were penetrating, urging me to divulge all of my secrets to him. I hadn't fallen for that back home, and I didn't plan to here. After a long while, he shifted in his seat.

"If this is the place that betrayers go when they die, why are you here? Some dark secret in your past? Or something you did after I left?" Bishop asked, his steely gaze still pinning me to my spot.

"In the end, it came down to expediency – survive as the King of Shadows' partner, or die with the others. I chose the King of Shadows."

"So what happened then? Did he kill you for your trouble?" He tried to look nonchalant, but there was an interest he couldn't disguise in his eyes. He wanted to know – no, needed to know what happened after he'd been killed.

"No," I answered. I could have expounded on that answer, given him a little of the information he so desperately wanted to know. But I decided that he needed to ask: if only to assuage my own pain from his betrayal of me.

His eyes bore into me, willing me to give further details about my death. I met his gaze with an equal ferocity, the black of my eyes meeting the brown of his, willing him to give in first. It was a sign of just how shaken up he was that he gave in and looked down at his hands after only a few minutes. Back home he would have held my gaze for a painfully long period of time. Quietly, so quietly I almost didn't hear him, he asked, "How did you die, then?"

I was feeling magnanimous. I decided to give him the details he wanted. He'd been subjugated enough. "When I turned on them all, I could see the look of shock and betrayal that went through them. I think even Ammon Jerro was surprised at my sudden abandonment of the cause. But in the end, Casavir was the one who wielded the killing blow. By then, he was the only one left standing. The rest were dead by my hand.

The last thing I remember was that hammer of his connecting with the side of my head. He hit me so hard it knocked off my headband of intellect. The look in his eyes was one of pure hatred and rage. I never thought to see the like on his face. But there was a divine wrath behind it all, like he was fulfilling some great cosmic destiny by slaying me. And he smiled at me – smiled – as he drove his hammer into my head."

The look of shock in his eyes quieted me a little. It had bothered me that Casavir had been the one to swing my death blow. The righteous paladin – righteous until the end. Still smiting evil with that damn hammer of his. Unfortunately for me, I was the evil that last time around.

"Humph. I would have figured Khelgar would have felt the most betrayed by you, seeing as how he'd been with you the longest. Would've figured he'd be the one to strike that blow. "

"Oh come on, Bishop. We both know that Casavir had feelings for me. For a while, at least until my true nature came out. Once I betrayed them, his anger was greater than any of the others. But it's over – I'm sure they all passed into their own afterlives soon after I did." I greedily gulped down another drink. Talking about how I was killed wasn't exactly my favorite line of conversation.

"How is it that you know where we are?" he asked, his tone a little more accusatory than I liked.

"I'm literate, Bishop. I read. I had more than a passing interest in my infernal heritage. I read all I could about the planes in that library in the keep, and in Neverwinter. I asked Aldanon a lot of questions. Hells, I even spoke with Ammon at length about the lower planes, since he'd been there. It didn't take me long to parse out the fact that this was Carceri once I arrived. The lurid crimson light and the smell gave it away," I said, downing another drink. The bottle was half empty, and I hadn't even been sharing with Bishop. I really ought to slow down.

"Listen." I leaned closer to him, smelling the beer on his breath and the faint odor of the Illefarn ruins clinging to him. "We're trapped here. There's no way out, not for people like us. There are ways off this plane, but since we're petitioners, it's doubtful we'll find one. I don't know what our next move should be, but it would make sense to stick together." My heart was beating fast. Even though he'd betrayed me, he was still the only familiar thing in this whole damn plane. I wanted to be with him, if for no other reason than he was comfortable – he was a known. I found myself unable to say anything further until I knew what his answer was. I hoped he would choose to stay with me. But in the end, it was his choice to make.

"Agreed," he said, and something in my chest loosened up just a tiny bit. "I can think of worse people to be in Hell with, after all." Then he did something completely unexpected – he reached out his hand and placed it over mine.

There had been casual touches in my uncle's tavern, back when we had been there. Touches meant to insult or inflame me, but usually just ratcheted up my desire for the man. This was different. There was a tenderness about it that I hadn't expected from him. It was then that I knew he was scared. We were both in over our heads, in a place we knew very little about.

"I say we get a room and get some rest," I said, although I didn't feel particularly tired.

"Separate rooms, or one room?" he asked, that wry grin creeping up in the corners of his mouth.

My heart was doing flip flops in my chest. "Well, our money would go farther if we shared a room, and it would be safer," I offered, knowing that it was just an excuse, if an accurate one. I really just wanted to spend some time alone with the man, away from everything we'd ever known. We couldn't get more away from it all if we tried. If we were going to survive here, it might just depend on the two of us trusting each other. But I wasn't about to tell Bishop that. I didn't think it would sit well with him. I wasn't all that sure it sat well with me.


	3. Alliances

**Alliances**

Bishop stood and walked over to the bar. I saw him haggling with the proprietor over the price of a room for a week. I didn't hear the details, but Bishop seemed satisfied when he returned to our table. He dangled the key in front of me, that ever present smirk on his face.

"Room 3 – meet me up there." Then he grabbed his stuff and he left.

Honestly, I don't know what I was thinking. Sharing a room with a homicidal maniac? One who'd already broken my heart by betraying me once. What was to say it wouldn't happen again? Especially here? But I couldn't deny that I had feelings for the man – complicated feelings, but feelings. I grabbed my bottle and followed him up to the room.

As rooms at an inn go, this one was one of the seedier that I'd been in. It was on the small side – the room was barely big enough for the double bed and the small table and chairs that occupied it. There was one window in the center of the outfacing wall. The curtains were brown, but looked like they might have been white once upon a time. The floorboards squeaked and there were no rugs to cover them. The bedding looked threadbare, but at least it seemed relatively clean.

Bishop stood in the center of the room in a brown tunic and pants. His leather armor was carefully piled in the corner on top of his pack and weapons. The smirk was still on his face, along with a more predatory look. He was sizing me up – trying to discern whether or not I would welcome his advances.

Eyeing him warily, I piled my own weapons and packs onto his. I began to unbutton my own leathers, and then he was on me. He pushed me up against the wall, his mouth meeting mine. His kiss had a little desperation in it. One of his hands was on the back of my head, the other at my waist. I found my own arms reaching around him of their own volition. Then my lips were parting and my tongue was finding its way into his mouth.

His hands came to the front and began unhooking and unbuttoning my armor. My cuirass came off. I found myself pulling his tunic up over his head. Part of my brain wondered in amazement that I was allowing this to happen. Hadn't this man betrayed me once already? But the more primal part of my psyche didn't seem to care. And it was in charge. There was something heady about letting my conscious self go and just living for the moment.

Still struggling to remove each others' clothes, we stumbled our way over to the bed. Bishop pushed me down onto it and fell on top of me, his hands at my pants now, tugging them off. Then I reciprocated, shimmying his breeches down over his hips. He took care of the rest by kicking them down and off. Then it was skin against skin – hands roving up and down, caressing and exploring every crevice and hill. That might make it sound like what we did then was sensual and loving – it was anything but. Our actions were driven partly by lust, partly by passion, but mostly by need for something familiar in an otherwise foreign and frightening place.

We were frantic and hurried, and the act seemed to make us more anxious rather than less. There was a frightening urgency to every move we made. When it was all over and we both lay there panting, neither one of us felt any better about where we were or what we were going to do now that we'd wound up in Carceri.

Bishop propped himself up on one arm and looked down at me.

"That wasn't nearly as satisfying as I expected it to be," he said, giving me one of his trademark smirks. The comment was so like him that I smiled in response. He almost seemed his normal self. Then the look was back in his eye and the moment of normalcy was gone.

I got up out of the bed and stretched. The longer I spent here, the more it seemed to weigh on me – that final act of betrayal. I couldn't shake it. I couldn't justify it, really. Those people had stood by my side: they had fought with me and they had been willing to die with me. In the end all of their loyalty and friendship had meant nothing in the face of the power that confronted me. A power that I could have shared with the King of Shadows, had I been strong enough. I wasn't.

I walked over to the window and stared out into the unforgiving landscape of Carceri. The houses of this pathetic little village huddled below me like squatters on a patch of dirt. They were ramshackle and falling down, just like the people here. They trudged through the streets, eyes downcast and shoulders slumped. There was no hope here.

Bishop was restless. He got out of bed and paced the room, his footfalls light on the floor and nearly silent. I ignored him and continued to stare out the window, lost in my own thoughts. So I was surprised when an arm snaked around my waist and turned me from the window.

His mouth crushed against mine, starting the whole cycle of lust and desire all over. This time, the urgency wasn't quite so strong. But the desperation was still there. When it was over, I rolled over and looked at him. He had fallen asleep, but his sleep was restless and he tossed and turned.

I got out of bed again, and found myself in front of the window, looking at the streets below. I had thrown on my shift, so at least I wasn't giving the inhabitants of this town a show. It was warm in the room – and stifling. Sweat beaded on my brow and began to drip down my face. I turned and looked at Bishop. His chest was damp with a sheen of perspiration and he had kicked off the sheet. I felt something stirring within my heart as I looked at him. I turned away. I couldn't afford any attachments. Neither of us could.

**Beginnings**

How did I come to this, you might ask? Why had I chosen the easy path to power and glory, instead of the long hard road of righteousness? In the end, it wasn't so much a choice I made as one that was thrust upon me.

Tieflings always struggle against their blood. The demonic heritage from my father sung in my veins, urging me towards a disregard for law and a penchant for pettiness. Growing up in a small swamp village didn't make it any easier to ignore, either. I was different from everyone else in that village, and my foster father's absent parenting only contributed to my eventual direction.

One day I was down by the river, wasting time as teenagers are wont to do. I was throwing rocks in and seeing if I could make them skip across the water. I was by myself, as Bevil was drilling with the militia and Amie was studying with Tarmas. Wyl Mossfield came up behind me as I squatted before the flowing water. I heard him as he approached. He wasn't very stealthy, and he wasn't trying to be quiet.

He came up behind me, thinking to surprise me. He wasn't very bright, either. Before he could grab me I said "Hello, Wyl." That brought him up short.

"Kelina. What are you doing?" He squatted down beside me, trying to be friendly. I wasn't sure what he wanted. He and I had never been friendly. Too many times I had heard his off color remarks about my horns or my teeth. With my almost black skin, I was quite the oddity here.

"Well, I'm throwing rocks into the river. I would have thought that would be obvious even to one of your limited intelligence, but I see I was wrong." I kept throwing those rocks, not looking at him. Not really caring what he did, either, as long as he left me alone. He didn't.

The next thing I remember is he was dragging me away, along the river bank and into the swamp. I didn't think to scream or make any noise, but I did struggle with him. There was no chance for me, though. He was much stronger than I was, and he had the advantage of bulk over me as well. When he had dragged me far enough away that my screams would go unheard by the village, he stopped.

He pinned me to the ground, a feral look of lust and power and anger in his eyes. I'll never forget what he said to me then. It is burned into my memory as surely as if he had branded me. I guess in a way he did, that day. He leaned down close to my ear and said in a harsh whisper, "It's time for you to pay the price for being an outsider."

I won't get into the details of what he did. I will state it plainly – he raped me. Brutally and savagely. He cut me with a knife he'd brought with him. He added a second scar parallel to the one I'd had from birth. And he enjoyed it: every moment of it. When he was finished, I lay there trying not to whimper but Gods! It hurt: what he had done. Not just physically, but emotionally as well. He left me there, cold and alone by the river.

My clothes were in tatters where he had cut through them with his knife. I was bleeding and sore and mad. I lay there for a while, trying to gather my strength to walk home. When I finally limped through the door, it was to find Daeghun sitting in front of the fire fletching arrows.

He looked up at me, saw the state I was in and put his fletching equipment down. He walked over to me and held my arms as he peered into my face. "Who did this to you, child?" he asked, more tenderness in his voice than I had ever heard from him.

"Wyl Mossfield. He found me by the river and dragged me off and…" I began crying. I couldn't help myself. I was still young, only 14. I was hopelessly naïve about some things. I hadn't expected what had happened and the shock was still with me.

Daeghun held me and let me cry. When my tears dried, all he said to me was, "Let it go. It will do no good to hold on to this memory. In time you will be avenged, either by your hand or someone else's. Until then what happened to you is the past." There was no talk of getting the authorities, of punishing Wyl through the normal lawful channels. Daeghun didn't understand human culture well. I suppose he was doing what he thought was best. But it felt like a betrayal to me – the second of the day.

After that I became colder, more spiteful. I took opportunities to hurt people just to prove I had some power over them. And I swore to myself I would never be helpless again. I began training with Tarmas and Amie, learning the mage's craft. My frame was too slight to learn the ways of a warrior. I didn't have the knack or the strength for it.

I never told anyone what happened between Wyl and me. Every time I saw him in the village, I tensed up with anger and rage. I promised myself I would get back at him. But I would do it on my terms. I would do it so no one else would know.

He came after me a few times, thinking to have his way with me like he had before. Only this time, when I heard him coming, I hid. I got really good at listening and hiding and used it to stay away from him. One day, I heard him following me down the path by the river. My studies with Tarmas were going well, and I decided it was time to pay Wyl back.

I let him catch up to me. At the last minute, before he could grab me, I cast a sleep spell on him, summoning the weave the way I'd been taught and letting it form a somnambulant cocoon around him. When he woke up, he found himself tied and gagged. I sat on his chest, my dagger at his throat. I could have killed him then, but something held my hand. Was it compassion? I don't think so. I'd like to think it was divine providence. Had I killed him then, I would have been tried as a murderer. I let him go with a warning to leave me alone, or the next time would be his last.

A few years passed. Then one night the fates moved in my direction and the village was attacked. Bevil and Amie found me, urged me to help with the defense of the village. I went for a lack of something better to do. We came upon Wyl, bleeding and half dead, standing in the village green. I told Amie and Bevil to move on, I would help Wyl.

As they left, I found myself face to face with the boy become man who had raped me. I leaned in towards him and saw a flash of fear in his eyes. I whispered in his ear, "Tonight I will have my revenge, Wyl. You won't live to see the morning light." Then I slit his throat. In that moment I felt powerful. His life was mine to take or to give, and I took it. Never again would a man make me feel helpless and afraid. As I stood over his body, watching his life ebb out through the artery in his neck, I felt vindicated. But as good as the moment felt, I couldn't help but feel let down, as well. In the end it had been so simple a thing to kill him. It should have been harder.

That initial event had repercussions that echoed throughout my life. Everything I became I could track to that day Wyl dragged me off. He had taken my innocence away. He forced me onto a path that I may or may not have willingly tread – I'll never know. But he made me feel powerless. For the rest of my life I strove to be powerful. I made sure no one would ever be able to harm me again. I craved the trappings of power and wealth, and I did what I had to do to gain them, so I could feel safe.


	4. The Quest, part 1

**The Quest**

"Kelina," Bishop said groggily from the bed. "You won't be any good in a fight if you don't get some sleep." Then he rolled over and I heard his snores resonate through the room. I stepped away from the window and its entrancing red glow and lay down on the bed, willing myself to sleep. He was right – if we should find ourselves in a fight I would need to be rested. Although I didn't even want to think about fighting anyone here, it was a likely possibility. After all, it was in our nature to fight: his and mine. I felt sleep claiming me at last and I surrendered myself to the soporific blankness.

When I woke up I found an arm flung lazily over my stomach. The whiteness of it was in stark contrast to the black of my skin. It was comforting, in a way I hadn't expected. Always before my lovers had come and gone, never spending the night. Then my destiny had been on me and I hadn't had time to take a lover. Why was it I found myself finally spending the night with a man only after I had died?

Bishop stirred, his arm tensing around me, pulling me closer to him. I turned on my side to find him watching me, his eyes piercing into mine, searching for something. His mouth pulled up a little in a half smirk and he pulled me even closer, his hand now caressing my back.

His other hand reached up to touch my face, tracing the birthmarks around my eyes. They marked me as part demon, as did the horns growing out of my head and the pointed incisors in my mouth. I found my own hands tracing his scars, which were plenty. Then exploration became groping, and groping led to, well, you can guess.

There was something about the act of sex that seemed so very normal. The rhythms and the cadence of it were familiar. The smells and the feelings and the sound all brought back a normalcy that we lacked now that we were on Carceri. Maybe that's why it was so important for both of us to connect in that way. Because it seemed like there was more to it than mere lust or animal urgings. We needed to be together, to have that connection so we could feel normal.

Unfortunately, the effect only lasted as long as the act, and once that was done, the steady unrelenting pressure started up again. Carceri was exerting its presence on us, and I knew that if we didn't find a way out soon, we would become like the other hopeless people walking the streets: worn down and dejected, too paranoid to trust anyone and no way to leave.

I got up, and began to dress.

"What are you doing?" Bishop asked, scratching his head and rubbing his hands over his face as he swung his legs to the floor.

"Getting dressed, what does it look like?" I snapped back.

"That's not what I meant and you know it," he said, standing now and stretching his arms above him. I stopped to watch, half dressed as I was. His body was well muscled but lithe, not overly built up. He had scars all over from years of fighting and hunting.

"What I meant was where are you planning on going?" He walked over to the pile of clothes we'd left before we'd slept and began dressing himself.

"I figure there's got to be someone around here who knows things. Maybe knows a way out of here or knows someone who knows a way out of here. I'm not saying we'll get that information for free, but we can get it nonetheless." I pulled my tunic on over my head and began buttoning up my leather armor.

"Do you really think we'll be able to leave?" he asked, pulling his own leathers on and lacing up his boots.

"Don't know. Figure it's worth looking into, though. Unless, that is, you'd like to stay?" I looked at him then. He was tucking a dagger into the top of his boot, his brow furrowed in concentration. He stood, looking every bit as lethal as I remembered. The hesitation and uncertainty seemed to be gone from his eyes. He was more his old self than he had been when I found him downstairs just the day before.

"No, I don't want to stay. But if this is our afterlife, will we have a choice?" he asked, appraising me as much as I was appraising him. I turned in a slow circle, holding my arms out so he could get a good look.

"Do I meet with your approval?" I sneered, but there was a twinkle in my eyes. I felt better than I had since arriving here. The banter between us was helping. I almost felt like we were getting ready to go on some quest for the shadow reavers or something. Almost.

He grabbed me and planted a harsh kiss on my lips. "Yes," he said, and then he turned and walked through the door. I stood, astonished at his simple reply. Then I followed him down to the bar.

As I walked into the room, I heard him talking to the barkeep.

"There has to be someone," he hissed, his voice deadly.

"Look berk," the barkeep was saying, "the only one around who could give you the dark on portals outta here is Miss Cantrell, and good luck getting anything outta her. Her place is the garden place, you'll find it easy enough." Then he turned his back to us and began absent mindedly polishing the bar.

Bishop turned to me and closed the gap between us. "You heard?" he asked. I nodded. "Think it'll be as easy as he says?" he asked again. I shook my head. We walked out of the bar into what passed for day here. It was the first time I'd been outside since I'd arrived at the inn, and again I was forced to remember where we were.

The townspeople who passed us glared at us or ignored us. There were a few who were distinctly eyeing us as marks, easy or not. I steered us clear of them. We began walking up the street away from the gate that lead out into the stark plains of Carceri. There weren't many people out. I did get that prickly feeling on the back of my neck though. I glanced quickly at a house we were passing to find someone looking back out at us. As soon as I turned to look, they stepped away from the window and disappeared.

"This place gives me the creeps," Bishop said quietly. His hand was on his bow and an arrow was nocked. He was looking around warily, on guard for anyone who might be threatening us. I wasn't unprepared myself. My hand was on my spell component bag, and a spell was on the tip of my tongue. My other hand gripped the handle of my rapier, fingering the grip with the caress of a lover.

The garden place. As if a garden could grow around here. The houses were cluttered close together and all the same pale shade of gray. No dogs barked, no children played, no cats peered from behind windows to watch us pass. The place was eerily silent and still. No breeze came to stir the heavy air. Heat seemed to radiate out of the ground along with the crimson light that filled the air. I could feel sweat trickling down the back of my neck.

A man walked by, trying to hurry past us, hoping we wouldn't stop him. I did. A stretched out a hand and held his shoulder, the contact knocking him off balance. He went tumbling to the ground. Still he wouldn't meet my eye. He was muttering something under his breath. I strained to hear what he was saying.

"Right peery berk knocking me down. She'll get hers, yes, she'll become like the rest of us. Deva won't see her." He was scrabbling back to his feet. I grabbed both his arms and made him look at me.

"Look. I need you to tell me where Miss Cantrell's place is, or I'll end your existence on this plane. Do you understand?" His eyes went wide with shock and his mouth moved like he was trying to speak but no sound would come out. Finally he squeaked out, "Garden place, can't miss it." Then he was rushing past me. I looked at Bishop and shrugged my shoulders.

"Not too friendly, are they?" he said, his hand threading the feathers on the end of the arrow he held. "I guess it's up to us. This town isn't that large. We'll check every house until we find it." He looked around, peering at the houses, the ground and the sky with that scrutinizing look of his. At that moment, a large creature flew overhead. Instinctively we ducked into the shadows of a nearby building, waiting until it was out of sight.

"What was that?" he asked me.

"I have no idea. I only know where we are, not what lives here." I whispered. The creature had shaken me. It was huge, and the fact that it cast no shadow had me confused at first. Then I remembered that the light came from the ground, not the sky. The lack of shadows explained why everything here looked so flat and unreal. I took a deep shaky breath and walked out into the street. Bishop followed, his back to mine, both of us even more wary then we were before.


	5. The Quest, part 2

We searched the whole town for the Garden place, as it was referred to by the natives. We saw nothing that would fit that description in our minds. Then we came to the edge of town. Here was a hovel that slunk up against the outer wall of bone. In the yard were eerie constructions of bone and rock that looked a little like flowers and trees and hedges. We looked at each other, Bishop raising an eyebrow and me shrugging my shoulders.

"Think this is it?" he asked, giving the door to the place a quick glance.

"Must be. I haven't seen anyplace else that I would say had anything garden about it. These sculptures look a little garden like," I said as I examined the nearest one a little more closely. A large thigh bone stuck out of the ground and rose to about the height of my waist. On top of the thigh bone were what looked like finger bones radiating out in a flower configuration. On a few of them was a red substance that looked remarkably like blood. It was dried and old, but it smelled like blood as well. I felt the inner demon clawing its way to the surface of my mind. I inhaled deeply, letting the senses I inherited from my infernal grandparent take over.

There was blood here. It splashed onto the bones and wound its way around the foundations of the hovel before us. It was old blood – nothing fresh. But the stench of death and decay was offset by an unfamiliar smell. I surmised that the smells of blood, death and violence were old and the unfamiliar smell was new.

Cautiously we walked up to the door of the house. I heard quick movements coming from within, and as I raised my hand to knock the door creaked open. I found myself looking at a heavy set human female. She was short and her pendulous breasts hung down to her navel. The dress she wore was a faded yellow, with a brown lace collar. The seams were stretched and the fabric was tight across her ample belly. She regarded me with her amber eyes as one would regard an insect of some interesting variety. Then she stepped aside and gestured us into her home. Bishop made to go in first, but I held him back. "Traps," I whispered. He nodded.

Inside the furniture was shabby and everything was coated with a layer of dust. I stood just inside the doorway, leaving enough room for Bishop to enter. The woman shut the door behind us, plunging the house into a fetid darkness. Even with my darkvision it took a few moments to adjust to the lower light level. Once I could see again, I looked around. The place was small, and there were more of those bone flowers adorning the tables and walls.

I tore my gaze from the 'artwork' long enough to look at our host. She had moved away from the door and sat herself down at a round table. She gestured for us to sit down with her. I grabbed Bishop and directed him into a chair. As I sat down, I asked, "Are you Miss Cantrell?"

"Yes, that be me," she replied, her voice high and squeaky sounding. "I take it you be new here?"

Bishop was still struggling to see in the near darkness, but his hearing worked just fine. "Yes," he said. "Got any advice?" I had to give him credit. He managed to look in her direction even though it was obvious he couldn't see just yet.

"Trust no one," she said in that high voice, the tones grating on my nerves.

Bishop snorted. I put my hand on his arm and said, "The barkeep told us you might have some information. What is your fee?"

I always liked negotiating a fee. It was one of those visceral joys in life: to discover the true cost of something by bargaining for it. What one party is willing to pay, and the other to take for an item or information can tell you a lot about the other person. It will give you an indication of how strong willed they are, how willing to bend, how much they desire something. Those that will pay any price for something usually wind up paying far too much. Those that try too hard to bargain wind up with nothing.

So I was confused when she said, "There's no fee for my information, cutter."

"There's always a fee, whether it is in gold or reciprocal acts. So what do you want? Information? Currency? Some errand run? There has to be something. In my experience, nothing is ever free," I said, my last words running vehemently from my mouth.

"I'll tell you what you want to know because you want to know it, and for no other reason." She sat back in her chair, drawing a shawl around her shoulders. Her hands clasped her elbows and she looked like she held them there by force of will, for they didn't seem to rest that way naturally.

I was momentarily speechless. My mouth opened and closed as I parsed what she had just said. I still didn't believe it. Not for one minute. No, the cost would come later, probably when I was least able to pay for it. After all, she had advised Bishop to trust no one. That applied to her as well. So I made up my mind to ask what we were after, because not finding the information would be just as costly as finding it, in my estimation.

I cleared my throat. "We'd like to find a portal out of Carceri," I said.

To my surprise, she laughed. The sound was high and tinkling, and it skated up and down my spine with a tingle that was unpleasant. "Everyone wants out," she said, her mirth dying down at last. "Question is, will you pay the price?"

Aha, there it was. The fee. I knew it had to be there somewhere. "What price?" I asked. "I'll pay anything to get out of here."

She leaned back into the table, her hands on either side f her body pressing down on the top. "Oh, the price isn't gold. It's rarely something you are really willing to pay. That's why there's still so many of you here," she said. "The price is determined individually. And often it is higher than you know. It will be higher than you realize, in the end."

Now she was standing and her form was shifting. Wings emerged from out of her back and her bulk slimmed. The dirty yellow dress became a robe of gold, and a light shone forth from her chest. Her face morphed into a beautiful, horrible aspect of righteousness and good. Her skin was golden and her feathery wings spread out to her sides, shining white in the sudden light. I sat there with my mouth agape, words failing me. Next to me Bishop said, "What are you?" with amazement and distrust in his voice.

The shining figure stood, her countenance lighting up the whole room. Now the cottage didn't seem so dingy and run down – it looked glorious and magnificent. The bone sculptures had become real plants and flowers and a heavenly scent filled the air. The threadbare carpet below our feet became green, growing grass. The chairs we sat upon became stones. A waterfall erupted out of the wall and flowed in a stream that wound around the room and disappeared through another door.

"I am an astral deva," she said. "I am here to guide you on the path towards good. I am here for your salvation, if you will only do what I ask. Unfortunately, I will not be your ultimate salvation. For that you will have to travel to my sister, for she controls the gate. But I can set you on your path. So listen, and listen closely.

You must travel to my sister, Narcath, and the journey will be long and difficult. There will be many temptations along the path. But the path will be true, if you can but change your hearts."

"What are you talking about?" I asked, suddenly wary of the true price of leaving Carceri. I had known it wouldn't be easy. I figured it would cost everything we had between the two of us. But change our hearts? What the hell did that mean?

Bishop was equally aghast. He was staring at the deva, his harsh gaze boring a hole into her, if that were possible. "Yes, please elaborate. What do you mean?" he said. He was fingering his dagger as he said it, and there was a malice in his look that I knew well.

The deva was shrinking, her luminescence fading and the wings becoming part of the fat woman we first saw. The golden robe became a dirty yellow dress and the grass disappeared. The cottage became dingy and depressing again. The woman was speaking.

"You must change your hearts. You," she pointed at Bishop. "You have betrayed your heart time and time again. Whenever you have felt something for someone or someplace, you have taken actions to assure that feeling will never be reciprocated. You betrayed her because your feelings were growing and you didn't want to be tied down by your love. You must embrace your feelings for her, and learn to trust her before you can leave this place." Bishop was pointedly not looking at me. I was trying not to inflame the situation by looking at him, either.

"And you, Kelina Amphrael." Now the deva focused her eyes on me, and there was no doubt about the deva behind the disguise. "You betrayed your friends and the cause you fought for, for no reason other than you craved the power the King of Shadows offered. Your life has been about the acquisition of wealth and power, in order to feel secure and safe. You must give up those dreams of domination and power. If you want to escape Carceri, you will have to surrender the power you gather to yourself. You will have to become powerless and take on the aspect of the woman you are truly meant to be." She stopped speaking and took a deep breath. The last lingering light from her transformation was gone, and before us was the heavy set middle aged woman that had greeted us at the door.

"I cannot tell you how to find my sister. That path is yours to discover. All I can tell you is it is in the mountains, and you must travel a great distance before you shall find her." The deva fixed her eyes onto me, and they were full of the cold light of righteousness. "There will be many chances for you to fail on this mission, and only a few for you to realize your true potential. Slip but once and your goal will be out of reach. It will be harder than you know. Most do not make it." Then the woman was silent. She held her hands clasped in front of her, and all of the regal majesty of the deva was hidden.

That was our cue to leave, I suppose. Part of me, a large part of me, wanted to sneak up behind the woman and hold a dagger to her throat. I wanted to demand the location of the portal and the path that would take us there. But there was a small voice in my head that informed me (in no uncertain terms) that to do so would cement my existence as a denizen of Carceri. I hazarded a glance at Bishop, but he was still not looking at me. I gave the deva a small bow and walked out the door into the ruddy light of the plane. Footfalls sounded behind me, and had I not been better at listening, I wouldn't have heard them at all. Gods, the ranger was light on his feet.

The walk back to the inn was silent. Bishop followed me the entire way. The only sound I heard from him was an occasional sharp intake of breath and the snick of his bow brushing against his leg. The townspeople that passed me by wouldn't meet my eye. I felt like challenging one of them to a fight, just to prove I was still alive. But that was the issue, wasn't it? I wasn't alive, not really. I had died and now I was exactly where I deserved to be. And according to the deva, getting out would be the hardest thing I would ever do. If I could do it at all.


	6. A drunken interlude

A Drunken Interlude

The grungy gray exterior of the inn loomed large on the next corner, and I took the opportunity to stop and turn around. Bishop was staring at me, his golden eyes almost feral looking. The expression on his face told me all I needed to know – there would be no discussion of what was said, not today. Possibly not ever. He brushed past me and walked into the tavern. As the door opened I heard the seedy sounds of some pipe playing in the background, the notes tumbling over one another but seemingly random. I stood in the street with my hand on my rapier, thinking.

People passed me by. A dog came up and sniffed my leg, then backed up a bit with a growl. I leaned against the wall of the tavern, breathing in and out. Since I had arrived here I had felt out of sorts. There was a heaviness at the base of my skull that I just couldn't shake, and the longer I stayed here the heavier it got. I knew that if I was going to redeem myself so I could leave, I would have to do it soon. Or the heaviness would settle in permanently and there would be no turning back.

A sigh escaped my lips and I took one last look around the street. It was empty. Some kind of dried up bush rolled past in the light breeze that had sprung up out of nowhere. Out on the plain a dust devil roared into life, and dissipated just as quickly. If it weren't for the red glow and the lack of an actual sky, I could have believed I was in some desert town.

I walked into the tavern and up to the bar. I paid for a bottle of whiskey, quickly scanned the room and found a corner to sit in. Bishop was no where to be seen. I figured he was thinking things out in the room or drowning his sorrows up there. I didn't particularly want to see him right now. I figured he really didn't want to see me.

My infernal blood gave me quite a tolerance for alcohol. I had found that out one evening at my uncle's tavern in Neverwinter, when Khelgar had insisted that I match him tankard for tankard.

The night had been cold, forcing us indoors to spend the evening drinking at Duncan's bar. We had just finished rousting the docks, trying to flush out all of Moira's competitors. A few of us had taken some light wounds, but it was nothing worth worrying over. I had been sitting at the bar, slowing drinking from a tankard of ale, when Khelgar had approached.

"Lass, that's not really the proper way to drink. Let me show you how it's done." He sat down next to me and asked Sal to bring us ale, and to keep it coming.

"Alright then. You match me, drink for drink. We'll see who passes out first."

Then we drank. Mug after mug, I managed to keep up with the swarthy dwarf. Every time we finished another cup, he'd flash me that trade mark ear to ear grin and tilt his cup in a toast to me. After the equivalent of half a keg of ale each, Khelgar fell out of his seat to lie crumpled up in a ball on the floor. I admit I was pretty drunk myself. I could barely walk a straight line. The room was slowly spinning on its axis, making my stomach queasy with each revolution. But to have out drunk Khelgar was pretty serious business.

Then suddenly a face had swarmed into view – a face I didn't recognize. He was human, and ruggedly handsome, although his face was criss crossed with the faint tracery of old, healed scars. He had at least a 3 days growth of beard, and he smelled of the woods, smoke and musk. Just as he reached out a hand, Duncan came storming over.

"Keep your hands off my niece, Bishop," he had growled. The man stood there, staring at Duncan for a few moments and then he had stomped off without a word.

It had been the first time I met Bishop. I had almost forgotten that chance encounter, but it came swimming back into the forefront of my brain as the alcohol infused my blood. I smiled to myself, knocking back another shot of whiskey.

Yes, my tolerance for alcohol had become legendary, once I drank Khelgar under the table. I could sock it away with the best of them and still come up fighting.

I settled in for some serious thinking. I had never given much thought to what would happen in the afterlife. I guess I always figured it wasn't worth worrying about what happened after I died. But now, here I was, stuck on the prison plane. Everyone here was looking for a way out. Yet they were all still here. You could tell from the faces of the people in the bar and on the street that many of them had given up looking. But there were a few who still seemed lively enough. If Bishop and I were going to have some long trek in front of us to reach a portal out, it might do to pair up with some others.

The first bottle of whiskey was empty, and I was already feeling pretty buzzed. I gestured for another from the barmaid and continued to churn things over in my head.

The trek would be difficult, especially since we weren't that familiar with Carceri and the local weather. Not to mention the natural inhabitants of the place, which I feared I had already encountered out on the plain. No, we were in serious need of some information and some companions, preferably ones good in a fight. Not that the ranger wasn't good, but he was better at a distance. So was I. So we needed to recruit a few who were better up close and personal, leaving us in the background to lob arrows and spells at whatever we were facing.

I was trying to work out logistics and salaries and arguments in my head when someone plunked down in the seat across from me. The alcohol was working its magic on my body, and my vision was doubled. Blearily I raised my eyes to see who was sitting with me and found Bishop staring back at me. I really hadn't been expecting him.

"Looks like you've gone and gotten yourself pretty drunk, Captain," he said. His voice was resigned and there was something else there, but I was too inebriated to figure it out. His fingers were worrying something he held in his hands: his thumb and forefinger rubbing it back and forth. I tried to figure out what it was, but my vision wasn't cooperating.

"Don't," I said, my words slurred, "call me Captain. I don't hold that title now." I knocked back another shot. Then the glass and the bottle of whiskey were gone. I looked up to find Bishop standing over me, the missing drink in his hands.

"Come with me, Kelina," was all he said. Then he began walking back upstairs.

I followed him of course. I had a rough patch trying to negotiate the stairs without the assistance of a railing, but I did make it up them relatively unscathed. I got to the top and peered down the dusty hallway. The window at the end let in the ever present red glow, giving the hallway the appearance of some bawdry red light district. I know I was wavering on my feet, and the world had taken up that slow spin again.

A door down a little ways was open, so I walked to it, hoping Bishop had left it open for me. If not, I was going to be stumbling into someone else's room.

I staggered into the door, but the room appeared empty. The bottle of whiskey and the shot glass were on the small table however, and as I walked in the door shut behind me. I felt strong hands grab me from behind, removing my armor. Then I was pushed onto the bed and my boots were being taken off.

The alcohol pulsing through my blood stream was making me tired. It was also spinning the room around, throwing my stomach for a loop and making it very difficult to see. I wasn't sure what Bishop had in mind. Hells, I wasn't even sure it was Bishop taking off my clothes. I only hoped I could keep from losing my lunch all over the bed.

He stopped with my boots. I felt myself being laid carefully onto the bed and a blanket was pulled up over me. He said something to me, right before I passed out. I really wish I could remember what it was, because it sounded tender and sweet. But that could have been my imagination, or the alcohol, working overtime. Then the blissful embrace of unconsciousness claimed me, and I remember nothing more.


	7. Leaving

**Leaving**

Cascades of pain through my skull woke me up some time later. The pain brought consciousness to the fore and reminded me that I was lying in a bed. I sensed, rather than heard or felt, the presence of someone next to me. Slowly I opened my eyes, to find the soft red glow in the room didn't increase the pain the way sunlight would have. I turned my head to see Bishop, silent and tense, propped up on his elbow with a look of concentration on his face.

I started to say something but he put a finger to his lips. I quieted. He leaned down to my ear and whispered, "Something's not right. I heard a scuffle downstairs, and then silence."

My ears strained for the sounds that meant normal activity was going on in the bar below. It was deadly silent. Then Bishop was whispering again, and I listened to him.

"Three beings came up. I think they're outside our door right now." Had I not been listening, I doubt I would have heard him, he spoke so quietly.

My demonic senses were easily summoned, and as they came to the fore my headache disappeared. Adrenaline filled my veins and I _listened._ I heard the slow breathing of 3 people right outside the door. I smelled the blood running through their veins, thick and bright with iron. They were in relatively decent health, but their hearts betrayed them. The fast beating meant they were nervous, or anxious for something.

I glanced at Bishop and held up 3 fingers. He nodded. I met his eyes, trying to convey to him what I was about to do. He nodded again. As quietly as I could (and that's saying something), I crept out of bed to the pile of gear stashed near the wall. I grabbed a dagger I'd looted off some dead body in Faerun. Looking down, I saw that I was still wearing my tunic and breeches. I wouldn't have time to get my armor on.

Grabbing Bishop's knife, I silently laid it on the bed for him and then crept over behind the door. I looked at him, nodding my readiness. I really didn't know what was going to happen next, but I was prepared.

Demonic senses are often acutely tuned to the blood flow of other creatures. I risked the demonic rage when I summoned them forth, but they were so much better than the paltry human senses that often it was worth the risk. Especially in situations like these. I could smell the blood of the men beyond the door. I knew they were human by the unique iron tang of their blood. I could almost taste their rich red life on my tongue. My hand stretched out to touch the wall, to put in more in tune with them. The demon was taking over. I looked at Bishop, waiting for him to do something to summon the men in so I could kill them.

Moans issued forth from the man on the bed, and it sounded like he was in the midst of some carnal pleasure. The heart beats on the other side of the door subtly changed, and I smiled. Then the door flew open and two of the men burst into the room, expecting to find Bishop and me in a compromising position. Kicking the door shut with my foot, I snuck up behind one and slit his throat, the blood spurting out of his neck to hit his friend and the wall. I dropped him and got behind the other, pulling his head back by his hair and placing my dagger at his throat.

There was still a third person out in the hall. I could feel him out there, his heart beating fast and confusion rolling off him in waves. These two in the room with us were probably henchmen. It was unlikely they knew anything. I slit the second man's throat, catching some of the blood in my mouth as I did so. I relished the taste of it, and as I bent my head down to drink in some more, Bishop snarled.

I dropped the man with a thump onto the floor. Pausing in front of the closed door, I gripped my dagger tightly and then flung it open. The man on the other side of the door was surprised to see me standing there, a feral grin on my face. He wore a simple tunic and a leather jerkin over some leather breeches. His boots were scuffed and black and came up to his mid shin. In his hand was a rapier. His friends had been carrying daggers.

I grabbed the man by his collar and forcefully pulled him into the room, shutting the door behind him. I grabbed his head with one hand while holding my dagger to his throat with the other. His heart beat even faster and adrenaline pumped through his veins. He tried to break free, but my hold on him was too strong. I smiled again, a predatory thing, and licked my blood covered lips.

Bishop got up from the bed, firmly grasping his own knife in his hand. He was bare to the waist, with just his breeches on. He stopped in front of the man and gave him a glare full of malice that made my heart twist.

Bishop wasn't that tall. For a human male, he was a little taller than average height, but not much. But when he stood in front of you, malice in his eyes and his shoulders pulled back in an intimidating fashion, he seemed taller. He was imposing and frightening. He looked as if he could pull the man I held apart with his bare hands. It turned me on.

"Look," he was saying to the man. "My little demon friend wants to cut your throat. So you better start talking about what's going on, or I'll let her."

The man babbled incoherently for a few minutes. I nicked his neck with my dagger, bringing forth a small trickle of blood. "Whoops," I said, my voice low and sultry, "I slipped."

"Ah, see," Bishop said, cruelty oozing from his voice, "you'd better talk soon or she might slip a little harder next time." His eyes flickered up to my face momentarily, giving me a dazzling smile full of malice and brutality, both of which were directed at the quivering lump of flesh I held between my hands.

"Wh…wh…what do you want to know?" the man stammered.

"Why are you trying to kill us?" Bishop demanded, moving even closer to the trembling human.

"The deva, she's gone," he said, his voice full of fear and impotent rage. "She was all that kept the gehreleth's out of town. Now she's gone and they'll be coming for us all next!" The end of his sentence rose in pitch until it became a squeal. "It's your fault! You two saw her last. Now she's gone." The fury in the man warred with his fear, and he struggled against me again. My dagger nicked him a little deeper this time, drawing more blood to the surface of his neck.

He stood still then, realizing that I wasn't about to let him go. Bishop's eyes flicked up to me and I tilted my head to the side. I didn't know anything about gehreleth's, or even what they were.

"What is a gehreleth?" came Bishop's next question. As he asked it he held up his knife in front of the would be assassin.

"Are you totally clueless then, berk?" the man asked, his voice full of surprise. "They're the demons that run this place! They are our jailers, the prison warden's and the police, all rolled in together! They don't care who they kill, and they kill petitioners on sight. You have to be a pretty high roller to get their attention, and it isn't usually good. You want to go somewhere else; you want to run a village of your own; set up some little fiefdom; you have to go through them. Nothing gets done in Carceri without them knowing about it: nothing. The deva was the only thing between us and them, and now she's gone!" The human kept screaming at us, his voice growing louder by the minute.

Bishop lifted up his knife and plunged it into the man's chest. He neatly drove the steel point between his ribs and into his still beating heart. The voice stopped in mid scream, his last breath burbling from the blood in his lungs. He slumped against me, and I dropped him to the floor.

"Aw, you should have let me slit his throat," I purred, wiping my dagger on the now dead man's clothes while I looked seductively at Bishop.

"Humph. You don't get to have all the fun. It was my turn," he said, wiping his own knife off. Then he began looking around, assessing the situation. I used that moment to lean over and grab his face, planting a bloody kiss on his lips. He pushed me away.

"We don't have time for that, Kelina. Get your hormones or your demon in check and get your gear. We have to leave now, before anyone else comes up here looking for us." Then he turned away and began putting his leathers on and assembling his packs.

He was right, and I knew it. But I was still a little put off by his rejection. It was hard to control the demonic urges pulsing through my body. I wasn't sure what I wanted to do more: rip the already cooling bodies apart with my bare hands to feast on their blood, or throw Bishop onto the bed and screw him senseless.

I took many deep breaths trying to master my senses. I put on my leather breeches, the tunic and the vest that comprised my armor. I tucked all of my daggers into their appropriate spots and strapped my rapier to my waist. My spell component pouch was looped over the belt and my pack slung over my back. I slipped a magical ring onto my finger, feeling its intelligence enhancing functions worming their way through my brain.

I was ready. I looked over at Bishop as he was finishing slinging his own pack onto his back. Then he gently placed the quiver of arrows over the top and picked up his bow. He nodded. He was ready too.

"Know any alternate routes out of here?" I asked, a sly smile creeping across my face. It felt good to be in the fight again. Anything was better than the malaise that had been creeping up on me since I'd landed on this god forsaken plane.

"As a matter of fact, I do. While you were downstairs drinking yourself into a stupor," a flash of his feral grin told me he was needling me, "I found a back stair case."

I narrowed my eyes, fixing a stern expression on my face. "So you were thinking of leaving me last night." It wasn't a question so much as a statement. I had wondered, if after the deva's revelation of his love for me, if he might just take off again.

He thought about lying to me: I could see it in his eyes. Then the truth won out and he answered. "Yes, I did. How handy for us that I did too, because I know of another way out of here that doesn't involve walking through the bar. Let's go." Then he turned and stalked out of the door, making no noise as he did so.

I followed him down the hall and through an unlocked door. Stairs led from the door down to another door, and that one led outside. Before he opened that door that would lead us away from the inn, and most likely away from this sad little village, he turned to me and kissed me. I must have looked surprised, because the corner of his mouth turned up, just a little, in the corner. That sly little smile gave me shivers that had nothing to do with the temperature.

"I didn't leave, though, did I?" he whispered. Then he crouched down low and slowly opened the door.


	8. The Gap in the Wall

Here's part 7. I'm glad people seem to be enjoying this tale. I just split chapter 4 into two sections, to make it easier to read. Disclaimer: I don't own Neverwinter Nights or the character of Bishop, or the idea of Carceri either. The story and Kelina are mine, however. Comments are always appreciated!

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**The Gap in the Wall**

The usually quiet and subdued village was in an uproar. People were milling about on the streets: some looked lost, while others looked like they were out for blood. I saw a man cut down another in the middle of the street, leaving the dead body to fall in the road. No one seemed to care.

"Any ideas?" Bishop asked.

"Maybe. Let's try to make our way over towards the wall. From what I've seen, it's just to demarcate the territory of the village, not a true wall. We might be able to squeeze through someplace. It is made out of bone, after all. It's not a solid structure. If that doesn't work, we'll have to try and sneak out of the front gate."

Bishop snuck across the yard to the shadow of the next building. I followed. We crept from building to building, keeping away from any villagers we heard or saw. After what seemed an eternity, we found ourselves staring at the bone wall that surrounded the village.

"You stay here," I said, activating one of the invisibility spells that was permanently woven into my armor. "I'll sneak over and find an opening big enough." Bishop nodded and sunk back into the lee of the building. I knew he was there, and I still had a hard time seeing him. I nodded my approval and moved towards the wall.

The wall of bone was pretty solid. It must have taken a long time for them to scrounge enough material to construct this wonder. That said - there were lots of gaps in between the bones, just not one big enough for me to fit through. Since Bishop was a little bigger than I was, I was going to have to find a gap bigger than me so he could crawl through too.

I don't know how much time I spent scanning that damn wall, looking for a gap large enough for a human male to crawl through. The more time I spent looking, the more nervous I got. I hoped that if Bishop got into a compromising situation he'd be able to get himself out. I knew he was a competent tracker, and pretty stealthy when he needed to be. But we still weren't all that knowledgeable about what the inhabitants of Carceri could do. Maybe our stealth skills wouldn't serve us here.

Finally I found a large gap. It would be a tight fit, but it looked possible. At least if I went back and brought Bishop over here, we would be away from the main ruckus in the main street of the town. This area seemed to be dead. Unfortunately, there were no shadows or buildings to hide by while we tried to escape.

I slunk back to the spot where I'd left Bishop. My heart skipped a beat when I looked at the side of the building and didn't see him there. I got closer and closer, straining with my ears to hear something from him. Finally I saw him tucked up into a corner, one eye on the street past the inn and the other looking for me.

"I found something," I whispered. "Follow me."

Again we moved from building to building, sneaking as best we could with no actual shadows to hide within. The din of the chaos that had erupted on the discovery that the deva was gone fell behind us as we approached the spot where the gap was. There were a few houses here, but earlier I had sensed no living beings within them. It seemed the entire population of the village was out in that street in front of the inn.

I gestured to Bishop to follow me and crept towards the spot in the wall where the gap was. He kneeled down next to me and examined the opening. He poked and prodded what bones were within reach to see if they were sharp or not. Then he looked at me.

"You first," he said, his tone brokering no argument.

"No. You should go first. You're bigger. If you can get through, then I can. I don't want to crawl through to have you get stuck and then be on opposite sides of this wall." I jabbed my finger into the air as I spoke. It was an old habit, gesturing with my hands.

"Ok," he said reluctantly. He looked around, gripping his bow a little tighter. "Take this," he said, then he handed me his prized longbow.

He got onto his stomach and began worming his way through the gap in the bones. His shoulders were the widest part of him, and I figured that if he got stuck I could grab his legs and pull him back.

The wall was about 3 feet thick, and the passage through was tortuous. He writhed and twisted his way through. A few times I thought I heard him mutter an obscenity as a fragment of bone pushed into his body. I sat on the town side of the wall, anxious and waiting for him to get all the way through. Then, miraculously, he stood free on the other side of the wall.

"Toss the bow over the wall," he said. "Your pack too, it'll make your trip a lot easier." The first thing I thought when he asked for my pack was that he'd take it and run off. I shook my head. Paranoia was creeping in already, and we hadn't even been here a week. If I couldn't trust him, I could trust no one. Grudgingly I removed my pack and tossed it over to him. I watched to see if he'd leave. He didn't move.

"What are you waiting for?" he hissed, crouching down on the other side of the gap. "Hurry!"

The sound of the townspeople fighting was changing, growing louder. I got onto my stomach and began to wriggle through the gap in the bones.

It wasn't as easy as Bishop had made it look. And it wasn't a straight shot – not at all. I had barely got my arms and head into the wall when I had to move up a little to get to a large enough space. My arms snaked above my head, finding the opening and then my head and shoulders followed. But my hips didn't want to turn that direction. I had to twist my torso and move my arms to the next spot. I found myself on my back, supported by a section of the wall. My feet were still on the town side and I wasn't sure how I was going to turn around in order to see where I had to go next.

I crawled back out on the town side, panting a little with the exertion and listening. The sounds of the villagers were coming closer. Adrenaline slammed into my body, kicking me back into gear. On the other side of the wall, Bishop watched anxiously, occasionally muttering, "Hurry up, Trickster."

I crawled in again, determined not to make the same mistake and wind up on my back. I twisted before I had to move up, and it made a huge difference. The voices were getting louder and clearer, and Bishop hissed. I couldn't take the time to look. I navigated the next section of the opening and found my arms being grabbed by Bishop as he pulled me the rest of the way out. My leather got scraped by the bones in the wall, but I was free on the other side.

Just in time, too, it seemed. The townspeople were boiling into the area we'd just left, nocking arrows into bows and hammering at the wall. They were obviously trying to get to us. I threw my pack on and began running, Bishop following me.

A few arrows thudded into the ground beside us. My invisibility spell was still working, I was sure of it. It must be Bishop they were trying to hit. Lucky for us the townspeople seemed to be terrible shots. We ran fast and far. We ran even when the village was out of sight.

At last, tired and beginning to cramp, we came upon a small hill and took refuge amongst the rocks there. We had some water left in our canteens from the inn, but not much. If we didn't find a river or some source of water soon, we were going to be in serious trouble.


	9. Into the Wilderness

**Into the Wilderness**

The day had really just begun for us. We'd only been awake for a few hours, despite the harrowing brush with death at the hands of the townsfolk. We sat there on the hill, examining the plane and watching.

"The mountains are the safest bet," the ranger said, squinting and looking into the distance. "We can probably reach them before nightfall." I gave him a sardonic glance as he said it, and he immediately corrected himself. "I mean, before we get tired enough that we have to stop."

"Then the mountains it is." I said, standing up and scanning the immediate area. I didn't see anything moving out here. Hopefully there was more prey in the mountains; otherwise we were going to get awfully hungry. I shouldered my pack; picked a direction and began walking.

We slunk across the plain, dashing from rock outcropping to stunted trees to more rocks. Twice some large thing flew past us overhead. Twice we stopped, motionless, waiting for whatever it was to pass us by. Once, off in the distance I saw one of those tarry creatures I had seen my first day here. We walked in the other direction, slinking low and hiding behind a huge rock outcropping until it disappeared.

The plain seemed to stretch the longer we walked. The mountains grew no closer, and the thick air made us tire quickly. My water was gone, and Bishop had drunk the last of his a few hours back. Our stomachs were rumbling with hunger, and we were weary to the bone.

A hill, slightly larger than others we'd come across, presented itself in the distance. A quick glance to each other and we confirmed it as our destination. Hopefully the hill had some water and food, but for tonight I'd take simple shelter if that was all that was offered.

Before too much longer, the hill was looming in front of us, larger than we'd thought. We scouted around the base, looking for some type of cave or enclosed rock formation that might be a safe place to lie low for 8 hours or so. We were beginning to give up hope when just such a place beckoned from underneath an overhang of rock.

Bishop, being the scout and tracker, went in first, checking the area out. Then he gestured for me to follow him. Underneath the rock a cave stretched back into darkness. A blissfully cool breeze blew from the back and the smell of moisture was in the air. He lit a torch and cautiously moved towards the back of the cave.

A few moments later I heard, "Come here," in an exited and hushed tone. I joined him to find a deep pool of water in a crevasse of rock. Bishop leaned down to taste it and I grabbed him and pulled him back.

"It could be poisonous. Let me try," I said, leaning down myself to drink. He pulled me back, that time.

"Then it doesn't really matter who drinks it, does it?" he asked. "Besides, if it's poisonous, it'll kill you."

"Aw, Bishop, I didn't know you cared," I said, mockery in my voice. Then I grew serious. "I have a natural resistance to poison and disease. I'll be better equipped to handle bad water than you. Let me drink some, and then we can figure out if it's safe to drink."

He grudgingly nodded and let me go. I leaned over again, inhaling the sweet smell of the water. It smelled good – I could detect no taint with my nose. Carefully I sipped a small amount, rolling the water around in my mouth. It tasted fine too. There was a faint metallic essence, but nothing else that I could detect.

I cupped my hands and drank greedily, filling up my cupped hands again and again before Bishop finally pulled me back. "That's enough," he said, eyeing the pool greedily. "Is it safe?" he asked, licking his lips at the thought of the water.

I felt fine. There had been no unusual tastes or odors in the water. My body wasn't rebelling against it and I didn't feel the soporific effects of any poisons, either. But some things took longer to work than a few minutes. "Wait for an hour. If I'm still fine, drink all you want."

I knew he was thirsty. Part of me felt badly that he had to wait. But part of me relished the fact that my natural resistance had allowed me to be the one to drink first. I smiled a little to myself at the thought. Bishop scowled.

"Fine," he said. "I'll see if I can hunt down some food. You stay here and relax." The last word was filled with a vehemence that made me cringe. "I wouldn't want my princess to strain herself," he said, almost to himself. Then he was gone.

Nothing untoward happened during the time he was gone. I set up the camp and scouted out the rest of the cave. I wasn't hopeful that he'd find any food, though. This place seemed to be the only source of water for kilometers, and I didn't see any evidence of anything else having been in this cave. So I was quite surprised when he returned with a couple of small animals slung over his back.

A little while later we had a small fire and the animals were nicely cooked. I could almost forget where we were and everything that had happened in the past few days. Almost. We sat and ate quietly, completely devouring every edible morsel on the beasts Bishop had brought back. By then we were full and tired, so we crawled into our bedrolls and watched the fire.

Suddenly I remembered something I had wanted to check out. I crawled back out and began digging through my pack. Aha, there it was: my spell book. I grabbed the worn old book out of the pack with a reverence people usually save for historical artifacts.

There had been many new spells and scrolls in the shelves of the library at Crossroad keep. I had dutifully copied many of them into my spell book. I had even tried a few of the spells out, but many of them hadn't seemed useful, at the time. Right now, I was looking for one that would allow me to scout ahead without physically leaving the area. I remembered something about an astral projection type spell that allowed one to leave the body astrally but not actually travel on the astral plane.

And there it was: Limited Astral Projection. I read the particulars of the spell, memorizing the details so I would be able to cast it after resting. I checked through my supplies to make sure I had the requisite spell components. A small piece of moonstone was all it needed, and I had one in my pouch. There were some complicated hand gestures, but I had done things like that before.

I placed my spell book back into my pack, setting my spell components on top of it. I should be able to cast that spell in the morning. I crawled over to Bishop's bedroll.

I knew he wasn't asleep. His breathing hadn't taken on that regular and slow pattern that a sleeping person has. I didn't know what was going through his head. I only knew that he was still here when he'd obviously thought about leaving me again. Whether it was because he was trying to meet the deva's expectations or because he realized he'd survive longer with me than without me I didn't know.

I reached out to touch his face and his eyes flew open. I gave him one of my predatory grins and leaned down to kiss him, making sure he could see my cleavage. He grabbed me and rolled me into his blankets with him. After the day we'd had, it felt good to be encircled by his arms.

Later as we lay there staring into the fire, I could feel that he was struggling with himself, wanting to ask something but not really sure the best way to phrase it. I knew because he kept clearing his throat tensing his body. Finally he gave in and just blurted it out.

"Do you think we can do this?" he said, his breath hot against my neck.

"Leave Carceri? I don't know."

"The deva said it would be difficult. Hardest thing we'd ever do, she said."

"And I'm sure it will be, if we go by what the deva said." I rolled over to face him, my arm snaking around his side. "But there has to be more than one way to skin a cat."

"What do you mean?" he asked, his eyes narrowing.

"I mean that there have to be other portals. Guarded by other creatures. The deva's can't have a monopoly on the portals out of Carceri. We would just have to find another one. Hells, we don't even know where the deva with the portal is. We might stumble across one or be able to buy access to one. What we need right now is information."

He pulled me tight against him, nuzzling his scratchy face in my throat. "And I suppose you already have a plan, don't you?" Then he was kissing my neck and no more words were exchanged that night.


	10. Morning?

**Morning?**

Consciousness came abruptly. One minute I was asleep, and the next I was awake and alert, but still. Had something woken me up? Bishop was tensed next to me, and I knew that he had been woken as well. Next time I'd have to make sure to cast a warding spell on the opening to the cave or the doorway or where ever we happened to be, so these things wouldn't happen. I had forgotten about anything like that last night.

I closed my eyes, listening for a sound – anything that might have woken us up. I heard the dripping of water as it condensed off the cavern ceiling and into the pool behind us. I heard the wind, erratic and slow, out on the plains. Then I heard something I hadn't yet heard here – birdsong. There weren't many birds, probably only 5 or 6 joining in song together. But birds they were.

I relaxed against Bishop and felt him relax too. But we still stayed unmoving and silent for several more minutes, listening to make sure that was all that had woken us. When 10 minutes had passed and nothing else was heard, I got up.

I pulled some travel rations out of my pack. We were running critically low, and meat from hunted animals wouldn't keep us healthy for very long. Eventually we were going to need vegetables, fruits and grains. Where we were going to come across those, I didn't know. I hoped that my astral travel spell would allow me to spy someplace where we might re-provision.

Bishop was getting up, drinking and attending to the call of nature. When he returned from the lip of the cave, I turned to him.

"We need to scout the surrounding area before we head out. Right now we have no idea what's around here or where we're going."

"I agree," he said, pulling on his tunic. "I'll go out and scout, see what I can find."

"No." I said. He shot me a look of confusion and then anger. I knew he took pride in the fact that he was a superb tracker and scout, and telling him no would be the equivalent of him telling me he would be the one stealing the supplies. But my spell would be better, and I would need his help if I was going to succeed.

"What?" he asked.

"Last night I found a spell that will allow me to send my soul out from my body. I will still be on this plane, but I will be able to travel much more quickly than you will and I will be able to fly. I think our best bet is for me to cast the spell and scout the mountains in the area." I pulled my own tunic on, waiting for his response. I wasn't sure how he was going to take this affront. Or if he'd take it that way at all.

He breathed in sharply and looked off in the distance. When he turned back to me I could tell that he was going to agree with me, albeit reluctantly.

"Fine," he said. "What shall I do while you're traipsing about?"

"I need your help, Bishop. I need you to watch over my body and keep it safe. Astral projection is dangerous. If something were to happen to my physical body I would be set adrift, with no place to go. It's also very taxing and I could be gone for quite a while. Right now it would be best if you prepared to be here all day. So if you need to go hunting, now would be a good time to do it."

Grabbing his bow and a quiver of arrows, he stalked out of the cave, leaving me to my preparations. Things were a little uneasy between us. He didn't trust me, and I couldn't trust him. But he was the only one I could trust, here. It was a confusing situation to be in. On one hand, I trusted him implicitly – but only because I knew how far to trust him. On the other hand I feared he'd leave me hanging, right when I needed him most. So I couldn't trust him at all. Which hand was right? Was there any hope for the two of us fulfilling the deva's predictions and escaping Carceri?

He returned a short time later, more of those rabbit looking things slung over his shoulder. They thumped to the floor in front of me, where I sat going over the spell one last time and practicing the complicated gestures. I looked up at him. He glared down at me.

"Clean those," he said, and then he was gone again.

I understand that he was mad at me, but to give me an order? What the hells was he thinking? I don't take orders from him or any other man. I do what I want to do. Then I realized what I was thinking and stopped. I gave orders to him all the time. How it must grate against him, to have me still issuing commands now that I was no longer 'in charge', as I had been in Faerun. I guess I'll have to talk to him about it, work out some equitable arrangement. We were partners, and we were going to have to start acting like it. Especially me.

I cleaned those rabbit things and set them on a nearby rock. He returned with two more and some plants dangling from his belt. He nodded in approval when he saw the cleaned meat, and then he handed me the plants.

"Do you know what these are?" he asked.

I examined them. They looked strangely familiar. One looked like it might be related to parsnips; the other looked like some kind of lettuce. I closed my eyes, willing the demon senses to the surface. I smelled the plants, and then nibbled a little piece of each. Nothing untoward happened. I opened my eyes.

"I think they're ok to eat," I said. I handed them back to him.

"So what now?" he asked, sitting down and beginning to clean the other two carcasses.

"What do you know about astral projection?"

"Not much. I leave that spell casting stuff to those who can do it. All the spells I know come from Nature and don't require too much funny stuff," he pointed to my book and spell component bag in explanation.

"My body will stay here, but my soul will be gone. My body will continue to breathe, my heart will beat, but I will appear to be unconscious. I need you to make sure nothing happens to me while I'm out."

"That doesn't sound too hard," he said, his knife deftly stripping the fur off the rabbit.

"Where did you find those?" I asked, pointing to the rabbit thing he was skinning.

"There's a warren of them on the other side of this hill. I figured that if there are a lot of them, there's got to be some kind of predator around here. Other than us, that is," he gave me a flash of that wry grin of his. "I couldn't find any evidence of a predator. But that doesn't mean there isn't one."

"Be careful while I'm out," I said, catching his eyes with mine. He nodded.

"Can your soul get lost?" he asked, returning to his task.

"In a fashion. Remember the githyanki?"

"Yeah. Big ugly yellow skinned guys who wanted you dead, right?"

"The sword of Gith that we re-forged is one of their silver swords. Usually someone who astrally projects goes to the astral plane. They use their silver swords to cut the silver cord that connects the soul to the body. So there is a possibility that if I run into someone with a weapon like that, they'll sever my cord and I will die."

He starred at me, his skinning momentarily forgotten. "How likely is that?" he asked.

"I don't know. I've never used this spell before. I don't think there are any githyanki here, but I can't be sure. If I run into something I can't handle, I'll come back if I can. But there will be nothing you can do. It will be my battle to fight. If my body ceases to breathe and my heart stops beating, it will be because I ran into something I couldn't handle."

Still he starred at me. There was some complicated emotion playing across his face, but the light was too dim for me to see exactly what it was. He swallowed hard and said, "Ok."


	11. Limited Astral Projection

**Limited Astral Projection**

"Are you ready?" I asked, my hands held in front of me to begin the complicated weaving of the pattern.

"Yes," he growled. But his expression didn't really match his demeanor. He looked a little worried, truth be told. He had put the partially skinned carcass down and was watching me intently.

I moved over to sit on my bedroll and began chanting the incantation. I held the moonstone in my left hand as I traced the glyphs in the air. The moonstone left a tracery of the symbols hanging momentarily in front of me before they disappeared in a puff of magical energy. I kept chanting and writing, pumping the matrices with magic to guide me out of my body.

Then all sensation was gone. My soul lifted out of my body, a thin silver cord connecting me to it. I saw Bishop rush over to catch my falling body and lay it tenderly on the bedroll. He looked around, trying to see my astral self, but I was invisible to him. I watched him for a few moments, curious to see what he'd do. He sat there, cradling my head in his hands. Then he kissed my forehead.

"Good hunting," he said before lying my head down on the mat. Then he went back to skinning the rabbit or whatever it was. But he kept glancing at me, to make sure I was ok.

Satisfied that he wasn't going to knife me while I was out, I willed myself up through the rocks of the cave and out into the ruby light of Carceri. I floated over the hill and spied the warren of rabbits on the other side of the hill. It was huge – there were easily 500 of the things worming their way through the ground. Off in the distance I saw something wolf like approaching the hill, skulking across the plain like a predator.

It was easier to see moving things as an astral projection. I was more sensitive to movement, and it was easier to see what was moving on the plain from up above it than it was walking on it.

I willed myself in the direction of the nearest mountains, hoping to find something of worth there. Before I could think about it, I was there, drifting over the mountains in all of their rocky glory. The peaks rose high into the air, sharp and menacing. There were many sheer rock faces and long drops of stone, broken occasionally by a high mountain meadow. I moved back and forth, up and down among the peaks for a long time before I saw something glinting out of the corner of my eye.

It was a tower. A small shelf of rock halfway up a medium sized peak had apparently been enough space to build a tower, precariously perched though it was. I zoomed in closer. The approach was steep and narrow, and would be hard to find from the ground, but it was there. The rest of the cliffs around the building were sheer and wouldn't be easily scaled. There was only one way into the place, and one way out.

There was no activity in the area. No sentients wandering about, and no animals that I could detect. It seemed deserted. A small mountain stream gushed forth from above the tower and fell into the abyss below it. Barren pines as tall as me stood as silent sentinels in the rocks around the tower. I moved through the walls, into the keep itself.

The main floor held a hall and a kitchen. Off the kitchen was a larder that was fully stocked with foodstuffs that were mostly non-perishable. So if we could make it here, we could re-provision on travel bread, jerky, dried fruits and nuts. That alone would be worth the trip.

I wandered the tower, looking for any inhabitants and anything else of interest. I saw no one, but as I came to the 4th floor, I did find something of interest. There was a huge library up here, replete with a wizard's lab. I had to keep myself from trying to read the books right then and there – being an astral body doesn't actually allow you to touch anything. Now we had a double reason to approach the tower – food and information. The very two things we needed most.

My foray had already been successful beyond my wildest dreams. But I wanted to scout out the approach to this place a little more carefully, so that Bishop and I could actually find it once we were walking on the ground. It's one thing to find it by flying, quite another to reach it walking.

I flew back and forth between our small cave and the tower many times to get the feel of the path and the direction before I was satisfied that I could repeat the journey. I found myself wishing I could send Bishop up here, for he was trained to scout and would do a much better job than I could.

Once I was sure I could repeat the path, I wandered over the plain back to the small town we'd come from. The citizens were still milling around, looking lost and forlorn. There was a creature standing in the middle of the main street that looked eerily familiar. It was thin and taller than the people of the village, and it exuded a tarry stench. A gehreleth.

It looked up as I flew overhead. I didn't know if it could see me or not, but I wasn't going to take any chances. I zoomed away as quickly as I could, back over the mountains. By the time I stopped running, or flying as the case may be, I was on the other side of the mountain range.

Way in the distance I saw what appeared to be a city, past a wide meandering river. I floated over in that direction, determined to try and spy out the place. When I reached the river, it was as if I had hit a glass wall. I couldn't cross. The city on the other side was just as far from the river as the mountains behind me were. It would be a long journey to reach that place, if we decided to try.

Satisfied that I had discovered enough for the day, I flew back to the small cave we occupied, tracing the path from the tower to the hill one more time. A bone crunching weariness had settled behind my eyes, and it was time to return to my body. I descended through the rock of the cave, pulling the silver cord into myself as I went.

There I lay, in the same position I'd been when I left. Bishop was pacing back and forth at the entrance to our hide out. I contracted the cord and with a sigh settled back into my body. There was a momentary loss of consciousness, and then I was opening my eyes.


	12. Paranoia

**Paranoia**

I must have made some noise or Bishop was more sensitive than I gave him credit for; because when I opened my eyes he was there, looking down at me.

"Water," I croaked, my throat dry from the hours I'd been gone.

He reached over and grabbed the nearest water skin, handing it to me. He put an arm behind my back and helped me sit up. I drank greedily, knowing there was more in the pool at the back of the cave. When I no longer felt so thirsty, I put the skin down and looked around.

A small fire was burning before me, and above it was a makeshift pot. The enticing odor of stew infused the cavern, and I began to salivate in response. I realized that I was starving as well as thirsty. I pointed to the pot, looking at Bishop.

"Is there enough for me?" I asked.

In response he stepped over to the pot, grabbed a bowl and dipped it into the heavenly mixture. He handed the bowl to me and watched me down it in 3 quick swallows. The stew was hot enough to scald my throat, but I didn't care. I felt a lot better after eating.

He was squatting down on his feet, hands resting on his knees. His eyes burrowed into me. He'd been waiting all day for me to return, and so far I hadn't said anything about what I'd discovered. I placed the bowl down on a nearby rock, took another drink of water and cleared my throat.

"I found a tower in the mountains. It looks like it's a 2 or 3 day journey from here. Don't quote me on that, though. Distances are hard to judge when you're careening above the landscape.

The approach is narrow and steep, and we'll be exposed as we climb. But we can re-provision at the tower and there is a library and a mage's laboratory there. I didn't see anyone, but that doesn't mean there won't be anyone there."

"Do you know how to get there from here?" he asked, finally sitting down and leaning against the rock wall of the cavern.

"I went over the route many times. I'm pretty sure I can guide us there. If I have to, I can go astral again. I wish I could send you, because you'd be better able to parse out the path, but I can't."

I looked into the simmering stew pot. There was enough for one more bowl. "Do you mind if I have the rest?" I asked.

"No, I already ate."

He watched me in silence as I finished every last drop of the stew he'd made. Only after I'd eaten two bowls did I realize I hadn't seen him eat anything. Paranoia ran through me: what if he'd poisoned it? Was there a poison rushing through my body right now? Panic set in and adrenaline flushed through me. I opened up my senses to see if it was there.

There was nothing. I looked over to him to see if he'd seen the look of panic that surely crossed my face. His eyes were narrowed and he was glaring at me.

"Is there a problem?" he asked. "Don't you like my cooking?"

I gulped. "It's wonderful. I didn't know you could cook like this."

"Then why do you look so worried?" he said, moving closer to me. There was something hard behind his eyes. There was something else there too, but I didn't recognize it. I looked at the floor.

"This place, it does something to me. I thought for a second that you might have," I swallowed hard again. It was going to be damn hard to admit this, but if I didn't, my feelings of paranoia would only get worse. "Might have poisoned the food."

He snorted and moved back to the wall. "Why would I poison the food, when if I really wanted to kill you all I would have had to do is put a dagger through your heart while you were 'out'?"

He had a point there. I put down the bowl and squatted in front of him. "I'm sorry," I said. I ran my finger down his face. He grabbed my hand. "I have something to tell you," I said, inching closer to him. He still held my hand in his vise like grip.

"What?" he said, his breath hot on my face and his voice low.

I pushed down the rising tide of panic. My mind was reeling away from what I wanted to say. My throat was suddenly dry and my brain froze. Why was this so hard? I cleared my throat, willing my brain to work properly again. Bishop still held my hand, but not quite as tightly. I inched even closer, my lips against his ear.

"I know that I," I swallowed hard. Was I going to be able to say this? Or would the words stick in my throat and choke me? "I can be a little authoritative, sometimes." There, that wasn't so bad. "I wanted you to know that I need you, Bishop. I'm glad you're here with me. I don't want to," ok, another hard part. "I don't want to give you orders. I want us to be partners. If you feel like I'm trying to call all the shots, let me know." There. It wasn't eloquent but hopefully it got my point across. I needed him. I wanted him. I didn't want to boss him around and make him leave.

His hands cupped my face and pulled it in front of his. I wouldn't meet his eyes. He pulled my head up so I had to. "Was that so hard?" he asked. The corner of my mouth rose in a half smirk.

"Yes," I said. "But I mean it. I don't want you to leave."

His face moved towards mine, his hands still on my cheeks. Closer, and closer he came with agonizing slowness. Our lips were almost touching, and he stopped. "I have something to tell you, Kelina." His breath was warm and moist on my lips. I wanted to bridge that millimeter gap between us, but he held my head tightly and I couldn't move.

"I …" he said, his voice faltering a little. Now it was his turn to swallow. "I care about you." Then he pulled my head to his and our lips touched, passion igniting in the contact. Our lips crashed together, tongues probing. He tasted of the stew he'd made. I wrapped my legs around his waist, pressing myself into him. His arms hugged me close, around my back now. My hands were in his hair, holding his head to mine as we kissed.

He stood up, taking me with him. The short distance to the sleeping mat was covered in 2 steps, and then he was gently laying me down, still kissing me. My hands were undoing his leather jerkin; his were roaming under my tunic. I was pushing the leather off his shoulders, he was kissing my neck.

He kicked off his boots as I undid the lacing holding his pants up. He pulled away and I made a murmur of protest that turned into a sigh of appreciation as he pulled his shirt off over his head. Then he was back, kissing my neck and brushing it with his teeth.

The demon was clamoring for control of my senses. I let her come up to the fore. Sensation slammed into me – the rough feel of my shirt as he lay on top of me, pressing it into my skin; the hard bulge of him pressing against my leg; the tingling pressure of his teeth at my neck; his calloused hands caressing my belly. The smell of him – musky and male and turned on.

I buried my face into his neck, my pointed teeth scraping his skin. I drew a little blood and he gasped. I licked it up with my tongue, the taste of it banishing higher thought. Now the demon took over, reveling in the feelings and sensations of the moment.

Then he was pulling my shirt off and I was sliding his pants off with my feet. I felt the bindings on my own breeches loosen and then they were sliding down my legs. I kicked them the rest of the way off. I lay there, panting a little with the heat surging through my veins. My mouth was open, the long incisors showing and he was lying on me, starring at me.

"Gods you're beautiful," he said. Then there was no more talk.


	13. Canus Carcerus

**Canus Carcerus**

I was exhausted after the day I'd spent roaming around outside of my body. The physical exertion afterwards, while pleasant, only contributed to my fatigue. I fell into a deep sleep when we were through. Nothing disturbed me: not dreams, not sounds, not anything. My body needed the rest, as did my brain.

So I was surprised when I woke up to find Bishop crouched at the mouth of the cave, his knife in his hands. He was naked, still, so whatever it was that had woken him up gave him no time to dress. A momentary flash of fear went through my brain, and then galvanized me into action. I got up silently and grabbed my spell component pouch; taking out a pinch of charcoal so I could fling a lightning bolt at whatever it was that had Bishop crouching in the entrance.

I snuck up behind him, hoping like hell he heard me coming so I didn't wind up with a knife to the gut for my trouble. The charcoal was in my fingers and the words were on my lips when I stopped. Bishop was crouched, eyeing a mongrel looking dog, which was also crouched and baring its teeth. There was something going on between them on some visceral level that I couldn't understand.

I looked at the man crouching before the dog. He made a gesture with his free hand. I rolled my eyes and snuck back into my bedroll. Obviously he and the mutt were making friends. That's what I got for traveling with a ranger, I suppose: a man and his wolf.

Still, the process might be interesting. I peeked out over the blanket to watch. After 10 minutes, in which no one moved, I rolled over and went back to sleep. I figured if Bishop needed something, he'd let me know.

I awoke for the second time a few hours later. Bishop was no longer crouching in the entrance – he appeared to be gone. Panic welled up through me as I sat up and quickly scanned the cave for his things. I let out a long breath as I spotted his bedroll and pack not far from me. I slipped into my tunic and pants and went out to stand at the mouth of the cave.

Not too far away I spotted him: he was moving through the underbrush with that mangy mutt in tow. The dog looked familiar – and then it hit me. It was the predator I'd seen yesterday as I flew over that rabbit warren. Now it was probably going to be our traveling companion. Well, it could be worse. At least the canine was familiar with this place and wouldn't say much.

I packed everything up, topped off all of our water skins and mucked out the cave by the time Bishop returned. The dog was still following him, and happily I might add.

"So," I said, shouldering my pack, "what's his name?"

"_Her_ name is Magrith," Bishop said, hefting his water skins and pack.

"I take it she'll be traveling with us?" I asked.

"Yes. Do you have a problem with that?" he asked defensively.

"Nope. None what so ever. Let's head out, shall we?" And we were off.


	14. The Journey of a Thousand Miles

**The Journey of a Thousand Miles…**

It paid to be careful, walking across the plain. There were many pitfalls – crevasses would come up out of nowhere; giant monsters flew by overhead and sometimes could be seen off in the distance. I assumed they were the gehreleth's of legend, but I didn't want to get close enough to find out for sure. At some point, I'm sure we'll meet one. That will be soon enough for me.

We'd been slinking our way across the plain for hours. I was hot, hungry and tired. I called out for a rest. The nearest convenient spot was a rock outcropping topped with a few of what passed for trees out here. We found a way to be relatively unseen and sat down, sharing out rations of what was left of the travel bread we had.

"Those mountains don't look any closer," Bishop said, crunching down on the hard bread.

"I know. And I don't think we'll be as lucky as we were the last time and find a hill with a cave. Where are we going to spend the night out here, exposed on this plain?"

He shrugged. Magrith had loped off ahead; doing whatever it is that animal companions do for their rangers. I didn't know. Things weren't looking promising, that was for sure. The mountains were still a day or two away; there was no shelter in sight and we were beginning to grow tired enough to stop and sleep for a while.

We ate our rations silently, each of us thinking of the situation. The air grew still and heavy: all sound ceased. I crouched down low, as did Bishop. Something was coming. Something unpleasant. Magrith was nowhere to be seen, and perhaps that was for the best.

Then we heard it: a squelching sound. I remembered the tarry creature I'd seen before arriving at the town, a few days earlier. It had sounded just like that. I expanded my senses and smelled it: the faint odor of sulfur clung to it, along with the petrochemical reek of the tar it produced. It was close. I knew it would find us. Bishop's smell might be disguisable, but mine would not. That thing would smell the lower planar taint on me as surely as I was a tiefling. Our only chance would be to teleport away before it found us.

I began the incantation as quietly as I could; pulling Bishop close to me so he could travel with me. The runes were traced, the words were said, but nothing happened. The magic had just fizzled away into the air. Panic filled me. The gehreleth was closer now – every moment we stayed here was another closer to our doom.

My spell had failed. Our only option was to fight. I looked at Bishop and saw understanding dawning in his eyes. He pulled his long sword and knife free, preparing himself for a fight. I began casting the protective spells that had saved me time and time again against stronger foes.

Bishop slowly rose to his feet, squatting just enough so his head was above the rocks high enough to see. I touched his back, conferring invisibility on him. I didn't know if it would help, but it couldn't hurt. He looked at me and silently mouthed logistics to me. The gehreleth was 25 meters away, coming towards us. It had spotted us, or smelled us, and was coming directly for us. It had no weapons, but that didn't really mean anything. We knew nothing about it.

It was saying something, but I couldn't make out the words.

As soon as it finished what it was saying, it looked directly at us. Obviously my invisibility spells weren't working, or it had just made us visible. Either way, the element of surprise was lost.

I pulled my rapier out of its scabbard. I saw Bishop exchanging his swords for his bow. He nocked an arrow, pulled back on the bowstring and let the arrow fly. Another arrow followed that, and then another. The gehreleth was shrieking.

I stood beside him. The monster was now only 15 meters away. I drew the magical energy into myself and shaped it into a fireball, hurling it out at the gehreleth. It barely damaged it. Damn that infernal resistance!

The demon was about 7 feet tall and slender. It had two arms and two legs attached to a torso and an egg shaped head, like every other humanoid I'd ever seen. Its arms were long and sinewy, and the body exuded that tarry substance. Its skin was gray where it wasn't covered in tar. There was a pair of wings sticking out of its back, and they were long and leathery like a bat's wings. Its most prominent feature was a mouth full of sharp looking teeth.

It marched toward us, rage burning in its eyes. I readied another spell, bringing down a hail of ice this time. Same as the fireball – not much effect. Bishop kept shooting arrows at it, until its proximity made that a poor idea.

With a cry, the ranger leapt over the rock and ran at the demodand, his long sword out in front of him. He raised his arm to strike at it, bringing down the sword with all of his strength. The sword stuck in the creature; the tar it exuded holding the weapon fast. I stared in shock. That little revelation just made this fight a whole lot harder.

I began slinging my entire arsenal of spells at it: more fireballs, instant death spells, despair, fear, I even tried summoning spells. They all bounced off its' tarry body. Each one did a little damage, but it wasn't enough. Meanwhile, Bishop had run back to me, grabbing his bow. He now circled the gehreleth, staying out of reach and shooting it full of arrows.

The demon reached out, scratching Bishop with its claws. They ripped his armor where they struck, leaving behind bloody welts. Still Bishop fired his arrows into the body of the gehreleth, each one hitting its mark but not seeming to affect the creature at all.

The fight wasn't going well. My spells were almost exhausted and Bishop was running low on arrows. He had taken some damage from the thing's claws and was bleeding from several different places. In a panic, I dug through my pack, looking for anything that might damage that demon out there.

My hands clasped around a staff. I pulled it from the bag and stared at it in wonderment. It was a negative energy staff. I climbed up on the rocks, pointed the staff at the demodand and began the activation chant. Just as I let the first charge go, the creature hit Bishop, wrapping him up in the tarry substance it oozed. Part of the charge hit Bishop, and part of it slammed into the gehreleth.

Bishop wasn't moving, and the gehreleth was coming towards me, the ranger stuck to its side like some weird appendage. I let another charge blast into the monster, and another. It stumbled, falling to the ground. I jumped down in front of it, slashing at it with my rapier. Every time I connected with it, the rapier stuck. Through sheer force of will I pulled it out. I leveled two more blasts from the staff into the creature, and with a burble it died.

Within a minute after its death, the tarry substance dissipated into nothingness. I looked down at my armor – the tar that had been stuck there ate holes in the leather. There were a few acid burns on my exposed forearms as well. But I was more worried about Bishop.

His wounds looked grave, mostly from the acid damage of the tar. I pulled a healing potion out of my pack and poured it over him. Normally, pouring a potion over a wound caused it to begin closing up and healing. This time, however, all it did was wash the tar away. No healing – no wound closure, nothing. It wasn't working. I uncorked another potion, taking a sip for myself. There was a minor effect, but not what it should have been.

In frustration I threw the bottle across the plain. It skittered away as it hit the sandy soil, sliding into a rock and bursting open. All those damn potions were worthless. Might as well throw them out onto the plain for all the good they were doing us. I did have healing kits in my pack and they would have to do. Hopefully Bishop's wounds weren't too serious.

I dragged him back to the spot in the rocks, trying not to bang his head on anything. I propped his head on my cloak and began dressing his wounds. They didn't look bad, but he was still unconscious and I didn't know if the tar had any poisonous effects.

Magrith came loping back 30 minutes after the gehreleth died. She looked forlornly at Bishop and licked his face. He groaned and reached up to wipe off his cheek. I sat back and let out the breath I hadn't realized I was holding. My knees were up and my forearms rested on them with my head hanging down. He was going to be ok.

"Is it dead?" he croaked.

"Yeah, it is," I replied, moving over to check his wounds again.

He sat up, rubbing his head. Then he meticulously checked his body for injuries.

"How do you feel?" I asked.

"Like I got hit by a large boar, but I think I'll be fine. Do we have any healing potions to speed up my recovery?"

I sighed. "They don't work very well."

"Damn." That was all he said. Then he lurched to his feet and began to climb up the rock.

"Whoa, where are you going?" I asked, grabbing the back of his jerkin and pulling him back down. "I'll get your gear. You rest." He glared at me as I scrambled over the rock out onto the scene of our battle. I grabbed his bow and all the arrows I could find, as well as his longsword.

Once all of our gear was accounted for and the gehreleth had been searched, I climbed back into the lee of the rock. Wordlessly I handed him his weapons and the intact arrows I found. "What do we do now?" I asked.

"We can't stay here. It's too exposed. We'll have to find someplace safer to spend the night."

"How are we going to do that? There's nothing obvious out there for kilometers! And now you're in no shape to go scouting."

"I'll send Magrith out. She might be able to find something. Meanwhile, we start walking." He paused and looked me in the eye. "Think for a minute, Kelina. We've only seen two of those things the whole time we've been out here. And they could have been the same one. Whatever that was, I don't think there are too many of them around. We're probably safe enough for now."

I realized he was right. We gathered our gear and began walking. Magrith went out ahead of us and within minutes she was gone from sight.


	15. The Plains

**The Plains**

I don't know how long we walked across the blasted, baked landscape of Carceri. The crimson glow never wavered: it always felt like the sun was about to set. There wasn't enough light to see, and not enough darkness to hide in. We walked until we could walk no further, dragging our bodies across the wasteland only by force of will. And still there was no shelter to be found.

After a several hours of the two of us shuffling in a daze across the landscape, I called a halt. We needed rest, and we couldn't wait for a more amicable place to appear. There was a small copse of trees with a couple of big boulders on one side. It seemed as likely a place as any to stop.

It turned out to be a good decision. There was a small oasis of sorts here: a dirty pool of brackish water lay between the trees. It didn't look pretty, but it was ok to drink. Bishop nearly collapsed as we got within the protective circle of trees. I made him take off his jerkin and tunic so I could look at his wounds.

Acid from the gehreleth had burned his tunic away in spots and left red blisters on his skin. The healing kits had a burn salve in them, so I applied it while he bit his lip hard enough to draw blood. It looked bad.

"How long has this been bothering you?" I asked him, deftly wrapping a bandage around his forearm.

"Well, let's see," he said, sarcasm dripping from his voice, "perhaps it had something to do with that demon thing we fought. Yeah, I think since then." I couldn't help myself. I smacked him in the head. Gods, I had wanted to do that so many times when he replied with some biting barb. It was only now that I felt comfortable enough with him to do it.

"Ow! What was that for?" he growled, holding his hand to the spot I'd hit.

"Because sometimes you're rude," I replied. "Now, how long has it been burning?" I starred into his eyes, willing him to tell me the truth. He met my gaze with a cold ferocity, trying to stare me down. I wasn't about to let him do that, so I returned his stare. Moments passed: neither of us was willing to surrender first. I sighed. "Look, we can stare at each other all night, or you can tell me about this wound, so I can help you."

"A few hours after the fight, it got worse," he said.

"Did it get worse where the acid was trapped between your armor and your skin, or everywhere the acid was?"

"Just where it was trapped. The pain never got too intense, and we weren't safe, so that's why I didn't say anything. Look, it will heal. Just leave it alone." He reached up to move my hand away and I grabbed him. I shook my head in exasperation at his obstinacy. Then I dropped his hand and went back to rubbing the salve into his burns.

"The salve should help. Have you tried casting any of your healing magic on yourself?"

"No."

"Try. It will probably work. Can't hurt."

He closed his eyes and held the medicine pouch he wore around his neck in his left hand. He said a brief prayer and then touched his forearm with the hand that had clasped the bag. A blue light worked its way out from his hand, suffusing the injured area with a cerulean glow. He breathed a sigh of relief.

"I think that worked," he said.

"Good. I wasn't sure how we were going to heal that otherwise."

I looked around the spot we had picked. It was exposed, that was for sure, but not as exposed as camping out on the plains. I looked over at the boulders. They were set in such a way that if we drug some of the dead branches over we could have a little lean to that would provide some shelter as well as a hidey hole from prying eyes in the sky. I could probably cast some kind of invisibility spell or shield over it as well. It would have to do; it wasn't like we had a choice.

Magrith came loping back into camp, a rabbit in her mouth. She laid it at Bishop's feet and sat, her tongue lolling in her mouth. I shook my head. I couldn't believe he had that mutt so well trained all ready.

A little while later we were dining on roast rabbit and drinking the brackish water from the mudhole by the trees. Bishop was nearly falling asleep as he sat, his head lolling every now and then as he tried unsuccessfully to stay alert. Finally after 20 minutes or so of him nodding off, I managed to talk him into going to sleep over in the shelter I'd constructed.

Our time in this little slice of paradise had been brief, but eventful. If our entire existence in Carceri was going to be us running from one shelter to the next, I didn't see how we'd survive. Maybe we should have stayed at that cave we'd stumbled upon the first night on the plain. It had a water source; it was defensible; and there had been food nearby. I shook my head at the thought.

No, we both wanted to find our way out of this place. There were portals out; it was just a matter of finding them. A matter of finding them and probably killing whatever was defending them. I didn't know that much about Carceri. I needed to know more. If we were ever going to escape, I would need the knowledge that appeared to be located in that tower in the mountains.

I cleaned up the area where we'd sat and ate so that it wouldn't appear that anyone had been there. Then I crawled into the makeshift lean-to with Bishop and promptly fell asleep.

We spent 8 hours sleeping under the protection of a warding spell with Magrith as a sentry. When we woke up we felt a little better, if still tired. This place seemed to drag at us and make us weary. The longer we were here, the less energy it seemed I had. But staying in one spot was a sure way of getting killed. We set off again across the plain.

There were more hills now, building up into the mountains. The foothills steadily rose upward, becoming more and more frequent. It was cooler in the downdraft from the mountains, and water was easier to find. So was shelter. We saw no more gehreleths, but were constantly on alert for them.

By the end of the day we were staring at the imposing bulk of the mountains. Their steep cliffs rose from the foothills like a wall of stone: forbidding and impossible to climb. The planes of the rock shone dully in the red light. Their face was broken every so often by a ravine or a gully that led up into their towering heights. Our only chance lay in finding the ravine that lead to the tower I'd spied a few days before.

We stood there, scrutinizing the rock before us, trying to find that passage. Bishop saw it first.

"There – a narrow crevasse, just like you said. Were there many of them?" he asked.

"No. I only saw a few. The one that led to the tower seemed to be the only way through the mountains."

"I hope you're right," he said. Then he set off towards the ravine, Magrith following him at a close clip. With a final look at the plains behind us, bathed in the unearthly crimson glow that passed for light in Carceri, I hoisted my pack onto my shoulders and followed.


	16. Finding The Tower 1

**Finding the Tower**

We wound our way through the ravine. It was studded with rocks and the same scraggly trees that had been on the plain. Only here the trees looked a little healthier. They were healthy enough to be dropping needles all over the place, making the trail treacherous and slick. Several times I almost slipped. Given the fact that normally I was quite graceful, this annoyed the hell out of me.

There was no path, per se. There was a way through the ravine, but it wasn't cleared. It hadn't seen foot traffic in a long time, at least as far as Bishop could tell. He kept stopping and fingering the local plant life, looking for tracks or evidence of some other creatures or sentient beings. He found none.

"Maybe they're just really good at covering their tracks." I offered as a possible explanation.

"Maybe this is the wrong path," he shot back, clearly annoyed.

"I'm not trying to dismiss your tracking skills. I'm just trying to figure out what's going on here. I'm certain this is the path." I looked around. It felt familiar, but then it all looked the same. I wasn't a scout or a tracker. I knew a little about moving through swamps, but that was where my expertise ended. I had always relied on someone else to point the trail out. The fact was the longer we went up this ravine, the less sure I was that we were on the right path.

"Look. It would be best if you let me scout ahead a little, so I can find the best path. I can leave Magrith with you, if you're nervous." Bishop turned that predatory grin my way, making up my mind. I wasn't going to show him that I wasn't sure.

"If it would make you feel more comfortable: fine. Take your mangy mutt with you. I'll be fine."

He began walking up the ravine, slowly looking from side to side. He turned around a few times to get his bearings, made a few marks in the sand that covered the ground and then set off up the slope and around some rocks. He was out of sight. I sat down on a nearby rock and awaited his return.

OOO

A few hours later Bishop came sauntering back down the ravine, Magrith at his heels. The smug look on his face told me everything I needed to know about what he'd found. Nothing. He'd found nothing. We were going up the wrong trail.

"There's no tower up this path," he said, confirming my fears. "Nothing but more rocks and few half dead trees. Then the path peters out at a sheer drop. I didn't see any structures along my little hike." He sat down on a rock across the gully from me, crossing his arms in front of his chest.

I crossed my own arms in front of my chest and kicked at some rocks by my foot. I looked at him, trying to figure out what to do next. The truth was, I didn't really know what to do. It wasn't my area of expertise. It was his. So I stared at him and waited for him to come to some kind of a conclusion.

He sat there, looking at me, then up at the steep walls of the ravine, and then back to me. "I think the quickest thing," he said, "would be for you to do that astral what ever it was you did before. I'll watch you. You find the right approach to the tower and I'll get us there."

I couldn't argue with his logic – it was sound. And it would be the quickest way. But this gully was exposed and offered little in the way of shelter. There was no water through here, and stopping for too long would be dangerous. I'd have to make it a quick trip. I nodded to him and stood up.

We settled into a spot that could at least be defended. I began the incantation and traced the glyphs. I left my body behind and soared out over the peaks. The path was the right one. I went up to the spot Bishop had described and on the other side of a sheer rock wall was the stairway that led up to the tower. The tower itself was hidden from view. The trail was meant to be difficult to find.

There was obviously a secret door there. We'd have to hike up and figure it out. I floated back to my body, marking the trail in my mind as best as I could. I'm sure Bishop could do a better job, but he couldn't cast the spell. So we were stuck with me and my lousy tracking skills.

As I came back to the spot we'd stopped so I could go on this lovely little jaunt, I took notice of the scene before me. There my body was, prone and unconscious. In front of me kneeled Bishop, his bow in his hand and his quiver over his back. He was holding my hand and whispering something to me. Part of me really wanted to eavesdrop and hear what he was saying. But I realized with a pang of guilt that it wouldn't be right. If there was something he wanted me to hear, then he would tell me. I fought with myself, going over the pros and cons of listening to something I wasn't meant to hear. By the time I'd resolved to listen to him, he was silent.

Damn my idiot conscience! I'd never paid it much attention before, why did it matter now? This place was changing me, and not in the way I'd pictured when I'd first arrived here. I mean, before I came here, I would have listened in and used what he said against the man. Now that I was trapped on a plane filled with evil, where good deeds never went unpunished and the very air twisted everything here towards malice and decay; _now_ I was growing a conscience? It made no sense.

I slammed back into my body. The feel of flesh around me was comforting in the way that traveling as an astral projection was not. I opened my eyes and sat up. Bishop was still holding my hand. I looked at him and saw something flicker briefly in his eyes. Then he was back to his usual brisk self. He dropped my hand.

"Well?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Oh, it's the right trail. That spot up the ravine where it dead ends? There's a secret door or something. The path continues on the other side of the rock wall – stairs wind through a minor pass and on to the tower itself."

"Why didn't I notice the door?" he asked. It was a valid question, since he was just as proficient at spotting things like that as I was. Maybe more so, truth be told.

"I don't know. Maybe because you weren't looking for it? Any way, that's where the trail leads. Let's head up there and see if we can figure it out." I stood, brushing the dust off the back of my pants and rear from where I'd lain down. We headed up the slope to find the hidden door.

We reached the drop off after an hour and began scanning the area for levers, seams or anything that might indicate how we were supposed to get the door open. There was nothing. No gear mechanism hidden in the bushes, no hidden latch on the rock face itself. We scoured the wall on either side of the door. At least, that's what we figured we were doing: we couldn't actually see the seams of the door. The only reason we knew it was there was because of my previous bodiless foray.

Momentarily giving up the search, I slunk down the wall to sit on the trail. Bishop came over and sat next to me. We sat, our knees up and our arms resting on them, looking out over the scene before us.

The mountains in this range were steep and treacherous, their sides tumbling head long down into deep narrow defiles. The trail we sat on was narrow and precipitous. One misstep and we plunge head long into the unknown depths. There were some large predatory birds circling above us, as if they were waiting for our eventual demise so they could dine. Either that or they were serving as markers for something more sinister. I didn't really want to think about that.

"Maybe it's not your standard door mechanism," Bishop said after a long silence. He threw a rock over the edge and we listened: waiting for it to hit bottom. We waited a long time before we heard the plink of the stone hitting something solid. We looked at one another, concern showing in our faces.

"What do you mean?" I asked.

"I mean, maybe it's triggered by a spell, or an enchantment, or something equally impossible to discover. What do we do if we can't open that door?"

"I don't know. We'll figure that out if it happens. Let me try something." It seemed so simple – a door that opened via a simple spell that even a novitiate could cast. I stood and faced the area of the wall that I knew to have the door. I drew the weave around myself, forming it into the shape of a key in my mind. I spoke one simple word: "percussus". The sound of stone grinding on stone reverberated up and down the canyon, the mountains amplifying and repeating the sound.

Then the rock swung inward, revealing a narrow staircase ascending up the side of the mountain. I turned, smiling at Bishop and extending my hand. "Come on, it's a long walk to the tower from here."

He shook his head, grabbing my hand and hoisting himself up. Megrith came up the trail, and if a dog could smile, I would swear that was exactly what she was doing at that moment. Together the three of us walked through the door and began climbing up the steep stairs. A few minutes later, we heard the sound of stone on stone again, and the door shut with a resounding boom.


	17. The Tower

**The Tower**

It was a long climb up to the tower. The cliff fell away from us on one side and rose to dizzying heights on the other. We mounted the steps with agonizing care, for one wrongly placed foot would mean our death on the rocks below. Every so often we had to remove stones that had fallen onto the trail from the cliffs above our heads. We would clasp hands to steady ourselves and kick the offending rock off the trail, listening as it made its descent into the depths below us.

Finally we came around a bend in the trail to see the structure laid out before us in all its glory. The tower occupied a slab of rock that jutted out into the emptiness of the deep defile. The piece of the mountain it rested on barely looked like it could hold the weight of the tower, and yet the tower seemed immeasurably ancient. It was made of the same type of stone as the mountain, and seemed to be an extension of the stone slab on which it sat.

The stairs disappeared as the path leveled out, and a trail of sorts hugged the mountain and led around behind the part of the tower that we could see. The path had been worn by the trampling of thousands of feet over some immeasurable period of time. But now it appeared unused. Bits of plant life were taking hold, giving an air of neglect to the whole scene.

Bishop placed a hand on my shoulder. "Wait," was all he said before he slipped off down the trail, his bow in his hand. I waited in the shadow of the rock face, Megrith panting behind me. I absently reached down and scratched the dog's scruff and was rewarded with a lick.

Soon enough he was back. He seemed to just rise up out of the dirt of the trail in front of me; the ever present smirk on his face and his eyes gleaming. I raised an eyebrow by way of a question. Good gods, now we could communicate without actually speaking. I wasn't sure if that was a good thing or not.

"There's no one home, at least as far as I can tell," he said. Then he beckoned for me to follow him.

We made our way cautiously up to the door of the tower. It wasn't secured against invaders: obviously whoever built this place intended the secret door down at the bottom of the stairs to keep people out. We opened the door and crept into the tower, our weapons ready and our minds alert for the faintest indication that it was occupied.

After a cursory investigation, it appeared that Bishop's initial assessment was accurate: there wasn't anyone here. Or they were hiding. Out hunting, maybe? It didn't really matter. We needed the information that the library held, and we needed the provisions in the fully stocked larder. If the place was truly empty, we'd know soon enough and then maybe we could take our time unlocking the secrets of the tower.

The entire place was covered in dust. No footprints or marks of any other kind interrupted the uniformity of it. This only confirmed to us that the tower was abandoned, and had been for some time.

We set up our gear in a room that looked like it hadn't seen occupation in quite a while. There was a platform for a bed, but there wasn't even the hint of straw or any other bedding material. A wooden wardrobe stood on one wall, and a small table was next to the sleeping platform. Both were worn with age, but serviceable. They were both empty, which was odd enough in and of itself. It was almost as if this was a guest room, and the last guests to occupy it had left nothing behind.

Bishop scouted around the outside of the tower, while I prepared a meal down in the kitchens. It felt good to actually have something besides meat for a change. Not that I didn't appreciate Bishop's hunting skills – I did: very much. But after several days of nothing but meat, I was salivating over the dried fruits and breads the larder had to offer.

We spent the next few hours eating and preparing to sleep. Our exploration of the keep itself would have to wait until the next day. We were tired and hungry, and too wary of what might be lurking here to be apart from each other for long. Even though the keep appeared empty, there was something about it that grated against my nerves.

At one point, I caught Bishop worrying a small stone in his hands, rubbing it between his thumb and forefinger. The action seemed familiar, but when I questioned him on it, he pocketed the object and said it was nothing.

The room we'd chosen to stay in we chose because it was defensible: the door could be barred and there were no alternate points of entry. We felt relatively safe going to sleep there without setting a watch. But just to be safe, I cast a warding spell on the door, set to trigger if anyone or anything tried to open the door.

Content that we were as secure as we were going to be, we spread our bed rolls on the sleeping platform and lay down for the night. The last thing I remember before drifting off was the comforting feel of an arm over me, and the warmth of another body next to mine.

OOO

Gone were the days of waking with the sun. The light level in Carceri is constant and unforgiving: a baleful ruddy red that colors everything it touches; making the world seemed tinged with blood or rust. I suppose that's appropriate for this place, but it brought me no comfort when I woke.

The day was spent in exploration of the tower. I spent part of the day with Bishop, searching the floors of the place for signs of life or recent habitation. Satisfied that there didn't seem to be any one around, I wound my way back down to the library, leaving Bishop to explore the place on his own.

The library was vast: it was on equal footing with the archives in Neverwinter. I could easily get lost in the books that stood on the shelves in that place. There was only one problem: most of them were in a language that I couldn't read. I had studied a few languages, but they were languages of Faerun, not of the lower planes. A hefty tome was sitting on a dais in the middle of the library. It must be important to have such a place of honor in the room. I thumbed through it.

The symbols looked familiar and the cadence of the words burned across my brain, searching for meaning. The more I looked at the symbols; the more I tried to decipher the words, the more sense they made. After an hour, the words were coming to me, their accent inscribed in some long forgotten genetic memory. Abyssal. The long lost tongue of my grandfather or grandmother was not lost any more.

The book itself was a series of rituals and chants. They revolved around someone named Mnemosyne. There wasn't much information about this goddess, at least not in this book. I began to wonder if this tower was a temple to her. If so, where were her clerics?

There were two other dais' placed equidistantly from the one I was looking at. I first examined the one to my right. As I stepped onto the dais, I heard a faint music in the air, as if some symphony or chorus was singing but it was too far away to be discerned. I felt a yearning to hear it at its source: to track down the wisps of song and hear it for myself and then I would finally know the truth of the multiverse. Once I stepped off the dais to find the music, it faded away, leaving only a faint longing to hear it again. I shook my head to clear it, recognizing that it had to be a trick of some kind to make me careless.

The other dais' book was dedicated to Melete. I hadn't actually opened the book on the singing dais, and I wasn't sure I wanted to risk insanity by stepping on it again. Looking through the tome here, it again seemed to contain rituals and chants. This tower was looking as if it might be some kind of temple dedicated to these three goddesses. I didn't know who they were, though. I'd never heard their names.

I left the ritualistic books where they were and began hunting for other books that might be of use. Specifically anything that might mention portals or have information on Carceri itself. Now that I remembered Abyssal, the task was easier. But there were so many books in this library that it would take months to give every one enough of a glance to know if they would contain any useful information. I sighed and picked a bookshelf to start with.

And so it went for several waking cycles: I woke up, ate a brief breakfast; and then went to the library to study the books there. I was learning a great deal of information: just none of it what I was looking for. Bishop spent the time exploring the tower with Megrith at his side. A few times he left the tower and returned with fresh meat, and both he and the dog seemed pleased by this endeavor.

I don't know how many days we'd been there engrossed in our respective research. I was in my usual post in an overstuffed chair next to an oil lamp when Bishop came bursting into the library. He made his way quickly to me, giving me enough time to put down the book I was reading, but barely. He pulled me up out of the chair, telling me, "Kelina come with me. There is something you have to see."

The next few hours found us going down one hallway, through a room, up a flight of stairs, down another hallway, through some secret panel in a wall, down two flights of stairs, down more hallways and more flights of stairs until finally it seemed that we stood at the base of the mountain itself. I looked behind me at a winding staircase that disappeared above my head into the gloom.

In front of me was an ornate door constructed of iron wood, gold and steel. There were friezes carved onto the door depicting three humongous women who seemed to be giving gifts to mortals. Bishop stood off to the side, looking at me expectantly.

"Have you been in there?" I asked, looking from the elaborate doorway to him and back again.

"Yes," was all he said in response.

"And?" I asked, hoping to get a little more information out of him before I sauntered in.

"You have to see it for yourself," he said. I looked at him. I could swear I heard the smallest twinge of fear in his voice as he spoke, but his eyes belied that.

With one last look at him, I walked to the door and pushed it open. There didn't seem to be any type of lock and the door swung silently inward on its hinge. The sight that greeted me left me momentarily stunned.


	18. The Altar of Mnemosyne

**The Altar of Mnemosyne**

The temple, for that's what it was, was huge. The ceiling disappeared into the depths above our heads. Gigantic pillars held the ceiling up, their capitals topped with entablatures that ribbed up to the top of the structure, out of sight. At the far end of the space was a white marble altar that was lit with a bright white light. I couldn't determine the source of the light, but it diffused about the stone in such a way as to make the altar glow. The floor was marble as well: white and green tiles in a non repeating pattern.

As I walked into the nave I noticed for the first time that there were crystalline alcoves on both sides of the aisle. Each one completely encased something. I walked closer to one, trying to discern its purpose. As I got close enough to see the contents, I involuntarily took a step back. There was a being in the cavity. I moved closer, once I realized that it was encased in the crystal.

I reached out a hand to touch the crystalline matrix surrounding the creature. The thing looked human, but it was much larger than any human I'd ever seen – a giant. There was a peaceful look on its face. Its eyes were closed and its hands were crossed in front of it. I stepped closer and noticed that its chest rose and fell. It was alive.

"There's one of those in every single alcove," Bishop said from behind me. "And they're all alive."

I moved from one nook to another. There was one of those giant humans in every one, making for a total of 100. They all appeared to be in some sort of trance like state. Whatever it was, I really didn't want to wake them. The odds were they wouldn't be happy about squatters in their temple. The farther into the temple I walked, the more skittish I grew. Panic began to well up in my soul, urging me to get out of that room and back up to the safety of the surface.

"We probably ought to get out of here," I said, tugging Bishop after me as I exited the cavern. I flew up the stairs with barely a thought of anything other than escaping. Panic gripped me, urging me to run up those hundreds of steps. The farther away we got from the temple, the less the panic ruled and the calmer I felt. It wasn't until we were halfway up that horrendously long staircase that I paused to take a breath.

Bishop was right behind me, caught up in my panic. Leaning against the wall I breathed in and out, willing calmness into my mind. To run blindly about this place was to invite death and disaster. Once my will prevailed, I started back up the stairs, Bishop trailing in my wake.

The rest of the way back to the library was spent in silence. I was thinking furiously about what I had seen in the bowels of this place. It seemed odd that such a grand place of worship would be hidden by such a circuitous route. Perhaps it wasn't meant to be seen by anyone other than the giants encased in the crystalline alcoves down there. And what were they? Why were they in some kind of stasis? What would wake them up? Were we in danger? So many questions were flooding through me I could barely keep up with them.

We reached the library and I plopped down into the chair I'd abandoned when Bishop dragged me off to see the temple. He sat across from me in an identical chair, his arms resting on the arms of the chair. We stared at each other, across that short distance, a little bit of panic creeping in around us. Finally I broke the silence.

"Giants. Those were giants down there, entranced in that temple."

"Yes. How keen of you to notice," came his sarcastic retort.

"How on earth did you find that place? I don't think I could find my way down there again. And why are they sleeping? Most importantly, what happens if we wake them up?"

"You're the one who's supposed to be gathering knowledge. What have you found out? I certainly can't answer those questions. I was simply wandering around, getting a feel for the place. I came across that insanely long stairway tunneling into the depths of the earth and I figured something important must be down there. Or else why put it there at all?"

"What else have you found in your explorations of the tower?" I asked. I realized he had been exploring for days while I holed myself up in this library. I hadn't yet asked him what he'd found, until he came in tugging at my sleeve and urging me down to that temple in the bowels of the earth.

"Nothing as interesting as that," he said. "Rooms, like dormitories, a kitchen, larder, sparring rooms, some laboratories. All of them empty and covered in dust, like the rest of this place. There's another library up a few floors, but it's much smaller than this one. It's locked, too. I only know it's a library because of the picture on the wall in front of the door."

"Are there any other locked doors?"

"A few. I was waiting for you to be done here before I drug you up there to unlock them. I certainly wasn't going to try it." He settled back into his chair, drumming his fingers on the wooden arms in a soothing repetitive motion.

I starred at him, running through everything I'd discovered about this place in my mind. Taking a new bent on the conversation, I asked, "Have you noticed how the oppressive weight of Carceri seems a little less oppressive here?"

The drumming stopped. He cocked his head to one side and nodded.

"This tower seems to be a temple or monastery of some sort," I began. Bishop gave me a withering look.

"I'd figured that out already, Kelina," he said.

I glared at him and then continued. "I don't think the goddesses this temple is devoted to are evil."

"Why do you say that?" he sighed as he settled deeper into his chair. He kicked a leg up over the arm of the chair and looked at me with an expression that told me he was prepared to listen for a little while.

"Their names are Mnemosyne, Melete and Aeode. Ever heard of them?'

I waited patiently for him to answer. He furrowed his brow in thought, and then shook his head. "No, I haven't."

"Me neither." I said. "They are the goddesses of memory; practice, meditation and discipline; and song. From what I can tell, they belong to some pantheon that I've never heard of – the Titans. Apparently these Titans were so feared by the other gods and goddesses, that a great war was fought. The Titans could not be defeated, but were beaten into submission. A prison was created for them and they were cast down into it: Carceri is that prison. This whole place was made by the powers as a prison for an ancient sect of gods and goddesses."

"The three that this place is dedicated to are called the Muses. They inspired mortals to create works of art. In my experience, those types of gods aren't evil. At worst they're neutral. That, coupled with the fact that I don't feel quite as paranoid or murderous here as I do out there leads me to believe that they aren't evil."

"What does it matter? Have you found any portals out of here yet? Or have you spent all of your time reading about these Titans?"

"I have tried!" I said, my voice rising in volume as I got to my feet. I began pacing back and forth in front of him. "I haven't found anything yet. But Bishop, if this place was built to incarcerate gods, how can we possibly find a way out?" I was in front of him now, my face mere centimeters from his. I didn't see how we were ever going to get out of here.

He grabbed my face with his hands, bringing it closer. "Don't panic, Trickster," he said. His breath on my face calmed me a little. "The deva said there was a way out, we just have to find her sister. And you said yourself there are other portals. Maybe these gods just can't use them. Who knows? Who are we to question the motives of gods? Let's just concentrate on the task at hand: finding out if there's a book in here that tells us where the portals might be."

His amber eyes caught mine: his will infused into me, slowing my racing heart and tampering the panic that had caught my nerves. I breathed deeply, closing my eyes. When I opened the he was still looking at me. "Ok," I said, removing his hands from my face and backing up.

"This would go a lot faster if you would help me," I said.

"Then who would be watching the door? In case those giants in the bowels of this place wake up, I'd like to be watching. I'm afraid you're on your own."

I glared at him. Sometimes his snotty sarcastic attitude really annoyed me. But as much as it pained me to admit it: he was right. Someone did need to watch out in case something came up here.

I went back to perusing the books that lined the massive shelves. Scanning titles, I looked for anything that might have a map, the word portal or 'How to survive now that you're in Carceri.' The words swam in my vision, blending one into another. Hours passed and I still had over half the library to go, and I was only scanning the titles of the books.

Bishop had taken to pacing in front of the large double doors that led out into the hallway. Magrith paced with him, occasionally darting out into the hallway and then back inside. Red light seeped in through the tall windows on the outside wall, constant and static. The titles of the books blurred one into another, mixing into a fugue of incomprehension. Nothing popped out at me.

I was tired. Bishop had quit pacing and now just sat in one of the many chairs, petting Magrith absently. He had the bored look of someone who is on guard duty and would rather be out doing anything else. I walked over to him and sat in his lap.

"Let me look over one last bookshelf, and we'll retire to our room to sleep," I said. I leaned in to him and kissed him chastely on the cheek. His arms came around me, holding me tightly to him. When I tried to break free to return to my studies, he wouldn't let me go.

"Be careful," he said. "Some of these books could be dangerous." He smirked as he said it, teasing me. I smiled at him and pinched his nose gently.

"Oh, yes, I could get a nasty paper cut. Then what would we do?" I kissed him one more time and got up.

The shelf I had chosen for my last attempt at gleaning some information was located in the northwest corner of the library. It had caught my attention the first day I'd come in here because it looked different than the other bookshelves. It was made of rosewood, whereas the others were all made of some kind of oak. The craftsmanship of it was different as well – it was simple: not as ornate as the others.

I walked over to it, not really paying attention to what I was doing. Days spent here had made me complacent to any possible danger. I turned to look at my companion, who was now playing with the dog in some game of catch. I turned back to the bookshelf and took another step forward. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw a small flash. Then the air pushed me back and a loud whooshing sound hit my ears, deafening me. I felt the heat of an acid trap burning into my skin. I would have screamed, but I was thankfully falling into unconsciousness. The last thing I remember is Bishop screaming "No!" from very far away and running towards me.


	19. Awakenings

**Awakenings**

My skin tingled with a burning, painful sensation. My mind was immersed in it: nothing existed but the pain. Every now and then some noise would reach through the haze, but not much disturbed me in this place. I existed with the pain. Once, briefly, it subsided for a while. When it returned, it was less and I fell into a deep sleep.

Then I was struggling up through a black void, trying to scale some imaginary cliff. I would almost reach the top and find myself slipping back into the swirling abyss of unconsciousness below me. I refused to submit: I scratched and scrabbled and clawed at the precipice, forcing myself over the top. I opened my eyes.

The sight that greeted me was the same monotonous red that had invaded my every thought, sleeping or awake, since I first found myself on this plane. I turned my head and saw the door to the room Bishop and I had claimed as our own in the temple. Bishop was pacing back and forth in front of the door, Magrith sitting in the corner watching him with her yellow eyes. His bow was in his hand and his pacing was eerily silent.

He realized I was watching him. The pacing stopped. He starred at me for a few moments and then silently walked over. There was a nervous look on his face. And then I heard it. The sounds of Abyssal echoing through the hallways; footsteps on the floor and the occasional sound of stone grating on stone. The giants were awake.

I gulped hard and looked back at the ranger. "Can you walk?" he whispered.

I tried to sit up, I really did. I thought I could manage it. But when several minutes of concerted effort found me still lying down, I shook my head in defeat. I wasn't going anywhere.

A hard steely look came into Bishop's eyes. "You have to," he whispered, the strength of the emotion behind his plea almost knocking me out. "They'll find us. If we don't get out of here now, we're both dead!" The pitch of his voice rose and his face was filled with repressed frustration.

The noises were growing louder. Voices were becoming more distinct, uttering the harsh sounds of Abyssal. I squeezed his hand. "Go. Find someplace to hide. I can't leave here. You might as well get away."

"I won't leave without you," he said.

"You have to. It would be suicide for you to stay."

We looked at each other, and even though he was close, he seemed very far away. A hundred things went through my mind in that mere instant: begging him to stay; forcing him to leave; telling him I hated him; telling him I loved him; telling him to just get the hell out. But I said nothing. He didn't look like he was going to go.

"We'll both hide." I said. "You leave and find somewhere else, and I'll hide here, in plain sight." He gave me a funny look, as if to ask me how that was possible. "Look, the invisibility spells woven into my armor still work. I'll use one of them. Just take my stuff with you so the room looks empty." That seemed to do the trick. He moved towards our gear and picked it up. "I'll be fine. And if not, well…it's best not to think about that." I looked up at the ceiling, trying to calm my racing heart down. The noises were growing louder.

He looked at me one last time, and then silently slid out the door way. He'd explored this place – he would find a place to hide or a way out. Whether he would come back for me or not, I didn't know. I had banked on the notion that Bishop would never let himself be put in a position where he could be easily killed. I had been right. It still didn't make his leaving any easier for me.

All those months back in Faerun of searching for those damn silver shards and I had never felt close to any of my companions. They were tools to be used to get the job done. Some were more palatable than others. The other tiefling had always been good for a laugh and a good run through someone else's things. We had that in common, in addition to our heritage: we liked to steal. Khelgar was always good in a fight, so was Casavir. As long as he wasn't preaching about how righteous the cause was. Elanee, Shandra, Grobnar, Qara, Sand, the rest of them: they had their uses.

But Bishop… Bishop had always been different. From the moment he joined our party, albeit reluctantly, I had felt a strange kinship to him. Maybe it was because we both harkened to our darker sides. Perhaps it was some raw animal attraction. I never knew. I never cared to know. I only knew that if the rest of them left, and only he remained, I'd be content. Those long months of fighting, establishing that damn keep and playing Nasher's lap dog: he was there. Not in a 'I'm here for you if you need me' sort of way. He was just physically there. He could have left at any time – his debt to my uncle was fulfilled, after all. We would sit in the tavern and chuckle to ourselves about how much I was leading the old man on. We'd laugh about how much money I was making as a 'knight' of Neverwinter. I never took that knight stuff seriously. Neither did he.

Then things changed. Got more serious. The shadow reavers became relentless and more dangerous. In that final quiet before the big fight, Bishop had found me prowling the battlements, looking at the horizon as if I could see the shadows approaching. And perhaps I could, at that. One of those shadows was him.

As he peeled himself off the wall, I was reminded of his inherent grace. I was reminded of what I liked about the man. I saw the battle frenzy in him, when we fought. How he let go of everything intelligent and became a killing machine. How he enjoyed it. In the frenzy of battle, it was easy to let yourself go. If you became one with your weapon, and your only goal was to slaughter as many as you could, it became a dance. A deadly pas de deux between you and your enemies where the steps were familiar and the end was bloody.

Khelgar and Casavir had their own versions of battle rage. They didn't lose control. For that matter, neither did Bishop. But the dwarf and the paladin never let themselves give in completely to the battle, the way the ranger did. For them the dance wasn't a dance so much as a drunken swagger across the floor, dealing as much damage as possible. Bishop was graceful in his fighting. He dealt death with a finesse that the other two lacked.

He stepped away from the wall and walked over to me. We stood, surveying the land lying out before the keep as the sun set. He said nothing. I said nothing. There were thousands of things I wanted to say to him, but I couldn't. If I told him how much I appreciated his company and his point of view, he would only have mocked me. But the silence was stretching thin. It was becoming unbearable. And just when I was about to speak…

"Just wanted to tell you, Captain, that I've enjoyed our time together," he said in that slow drawl of his. His eyes still roamed the countryside, now a ruddy orange in the gloaming.

"Enjoyed? Are you leaving? Because I wouldn't really blame you," I said. "I'd leave myself, if I could."

"Why don't we, then?" he asked, finally turning his face to mine. His arms were crossed in front of his chest and he smelled faintly of leather and pine. The smell was intoxicating and I breathed deeply.

I looked at him, long and hard. There was something behind the mask he wore for everyone. Regret? I couldn't tell. But behind his eyes was something other than base disregard for everyone other than himself. He'd made this offer before, and he'd been joking. I didn't think he was joking now. My heart jumped in my chest, beating a staccato rhythm that left my throat dry and my mind empty.

"I…" I began, unsure what to say. My heart said yes. But deep within the dark of my soul, I knew I had to stay. No matter what else happened, this was _my_ fight. I would have to go the Vale and face Garius and the King of Shadows. What would transpire once I arrived there remained to be seen. I wasn't yet convinced of the utility of killing the King of Shadows. He may have his uses as well. It didn't do to underestimate his possible worth. But that damn Garius was going to die, and I was going to be the one to see it done.

I looked him directly in the eye as I spoke to him. "I can't. As much as I want to, as much as I hate this place, I have to stay. I have an appointment with destiny."

He only nodded. He'd known what my answer would be, it seemed. I reached out to touch his cheek and he slapped my hand away. "You've made your bed, now you have to lay in it, Captain." Then he was gone. The next morning he'd been at the war council. We'd fought that day and night against the armies of the King of Shadows. The day after that when they made their final push – he betrayed me.

I still remember the look on his face. He was conflicted between his desire to stay with me, and his desire to save his own hide. I knew what he felt for me couldn't compare to his own sense of self preservation. Fleeting feelings that would never amount to much couldn't stand in the face of one's own possible destruction. But I was still mad. Mad that he'd betrayed me; mad that he left me in such a defenseless position; and mad that my heart was breaking in two as he said those final words: "For what it's worth, you almost made me stick around. But that's why I have to do this. You'll see the wisdom of this in time. The road to the winning side is _always_ open."

I swore that if I ever saw him again, I'd kill him myself. But when it came right down to it, during that final confrontation with the King of Shadows, I couldn't do it. Something stayed my hand. I was still pissed as hell at him, but there was some dark current running through my heart that wouldn't allow me to even strike the man. So I let one of my other companions do it. I wasn't about to let some stupid emotion get in the way of my revenge.

Now here I was, lying on a cold stone slab, unable to move, and he had left me again. Because I asked him to. Because in the end, it was the prudent thing to do. I could hear the giants coming closer and closer to this room in which I lay. Quietly I mumbled the activation sequence for my invisibility spell and prayed that it would work.


	20. Questions and a Few Answers

**Questions and a Few Answers**

Swimming up through the darkness was easier this time. I opened my eyes to find myself still lying on the platform. Experimentally I lifted an arm. There was some pain and a lot of stiffness, but I could move it. That was definitely an improvement over the last time I'd been conscious. My legs were stiff but they also moved. I tried sitting up. As soon as I swung my legs over the side of the platform vertigo came crashing into my head. I collapsed back onto the bed, not terribly eager to try that again anytime soon.

A cursory examination of the skin that I could see revealed acid burns on my arms where they weren't covered by my armor. My armor was in tatters – the acid had eaten large holes through parts of the torso and sleeves. "Dammit!" I exclaimed. I had gone to great lengths to procure this armor. It would be difficult if not impossible to find its match here in Carceri.

The darkness came swimming back up again, but I fought it this time. My strength was returning. I was in that intermediate state between consciousness and sleep where you can sometimes dream without actually being asleep. I was dreaming of a glade in the mountains. A brook of fresh water coursed through the glade and it was filled with the bright white light of the sun back on Faerun. Birds were singing, cicadas were droning and I was lying in the grass, soaking it all in. Someone was next to me, enjoying the sunlight and the play of its beams on the water.

He looked at me, this person in my dream. At first I didn't recognize the face, and then I realized it was Bishop. But it also wasn't Bishop. There was something serene about his face – the perpetual scowl and the innate distrust of anyone other than himself seemed to be gone. He still wore his ranger's leathers, but he seemed so carefree and happy. I had never seen him that way. In truth, it disturbed me more than anything else. Why would my subconscious drag this up from the depths of my mind?

Some noise in the hallway snatched the dream away from me, and I became fully alert in a matter of seconds. I didn't move, but pretended to still be sleeping on the platform. Slowly the door opened and a face peered into the room through the crack. It was one of the giants: a female. A spell came to my lips, one that required no components to cast. I wasn't going to be taken out without a fight.

The giantess looked behind her, then slipped into our room and closed the door. She stared at me, her expression determined and grim. I closed my eyes, trying to remember the Abyssal that had come so recently to my mind.

"Why are you here?" I asked, my voice taking on the harsh guttural sounds of the language of the abyss. I readied my spell in my mind in case conversation wasn't what she was here for.

She looked stunned, but composed herself quickly. "I live here," she replied. "I should be asking you why you are here."

"I'm just trying to find a way out of Carceri," I said.

"We mean you no harm," she said.

"Well, you'll excuse me if I don't believe you. I have yet to meet someone here who doesn't mean me exactly that. I've been hounded and hunted, and all I really want to do is leave."

"We can help you," she said.

"Why would you do that?" I asked, suspicious. I couldn't believe they would help without demanding a hefty price in exchange.

"We are the clerics of the muses – one of our goals is to collect knowledge and memories. We have the dark on how to escape Carceri, if that is your goal. It would come with a price, but it would be a fair price, and one you could easily pay."

I arched an eyebrow at her, propping myself up on my shoulder as I did so. Her offer was intriguing, but I didn't trust her for a second. I gestured for her to continue.

"I have spoken with the head of our order: he is willing to help you for a price."

"The last price I was given to escape Carceri was much too high," I responded. "I have yet to meet it. How do I know yours will be any better?"

"Who did you set a price with?" asked the giantess, her arms coming to rest in front of her in an easy grace. She sat down on the floor, and her head was level with mine.

"Information is power. What will you give me if I tell you?" I asked.

Her head tilted to the side and she gave me a careful, scrutinizing look. "You are in no position to negotiate with me. You will tell me because I ask," she replied.

"And if I don't?" I knew I was baiting a dragon, but I couldn't help myself. I didn't just hand over information to people I didn't know. I didn't just hand it over to people I knew, for that matter. There was always a price: for everyone.

"Then you will never escape Carceri, as you so dearly wish. Your companion will never be reunited with you, either. You will tell me what I ask, or his life is forfeit."

I tried not to show any surprise at what she said. They were more on top of things that I had realized if they knew about Bishop. And from what she said they either had him in their custody or knew exactly where he was. Or she was bluffing to get me to tell her where he was or that he existed. Either way, it was best if I neither confirmed nor denied what she said.

"The last price was given to me by a deva."

"Ah, that is it then. They always demand an enormous price for their services. Their goal is to save you from yourself, after all. They can do no less than ask for your salvation. Most people here find that incredibly difficult, if not impossible. No, our price is not that high. We ask only for your memories. We have been asleep for a long time. We need to know what has happened in the intervening years."

"Well, I'd love to hear your offer, but I'm afraid I won't be leaving this bed anytime soon," I said. It was true. This conversation was tiring me out and I didn't think I could handle much more without collapsing.

"You are injured. I will send in one of the healers, and then you will meet with me and the Tormunath. We will discuss prices and memories. Then you will leave." With that the giantess got up to her feet and left, barring the door behind her.

Slowly I lowered myself onto the bed, thoughts rushing through my head. It seemed like a small price to pay – my memories for the way out. And yet I couldn't help but feel it would be a far more difficult a price than I thought. Scenarios worked their way through my mind. Telling them everything I knew about Faerun, for example, didn't seem like information they'd be interested in. I really hadn't been in Carceri that long. I didn't really have anything of note to tell them. As I slipped into sleep, the deal got worse and worse, until I found myself hooked up to some strange machine that not only took my memories, but my life force as well. I realized I was dreaming, and settled down into a deep, dreamless sleep.

Sometime later a noise in the hall woke me up.


	21. Healing

**Healing**

Footsteps sounded out in the hall, and they were neither heavy enough nor loud enough to be the giants. It had to be Bishop. I hoped it was Bishop, because if it wasn't, I was in trouble of a sort I didn't want to face. The sound of the wooden barricade being lifted came into the room. The same spell I had summoned to mind when the giantess entered came easily to my lips again and I had a moment of déjà vu.

I lay still, watching the door slowly open, fingering my bag of spell components. It was a scene that was becoming all too familiar. A muzzle of a dog was the first thing I saw, and then the rest of the mutt followed. Magrith slunk into the room, sniffing heavily at the traces of the giants who had recently been visiting. My hand moved away from the pouch at my waist. Behind her was the ranger. He slipped inside the room more quietly than I would have thought possible.

"Can you walk?" he asked, an echo of our previous conversation flying through my head. In response I sat up on the edge of the bed. I was still weak and light headed, but the darkness wasn't swimming around the edge of my vision any more. I nodded.

"I can walk, but not far, and not fast. Listen, the giants have been in here. They've spoken with me. They know you're here." I looked up at his handsome face. The red light and the angle of his bones gave his face a harsh look that the two day old beard barely softened. His facial features radiated his capacity to be cruel, a trait I'd always found intriguing before. His eyebrows had risen at my statement.

"Yeah? And how do they know that?" he asked.

"It doesn't really matter. I don't know myself. But they said that they'd show me the way out of Carceri. All I have to do is give them my memories." I carefully touched my feet to the floor. Slowly I began to put my weight onto them, to see how I'd hold up. It was looking good. Then my left leg buckled a little and I sat back down hard on the platform.

"They want your memories." he said. It wasn't a question. I think he was trying to figure out where the catch was. I didn't quite believe it would be that easy myself.

"Yes. I don't know the details, but apparently their goddess collects them. For the small price of my life's memories, I can get off this plane."

"_You_ can get off this plane," he said, anger flashing in his eyes.

"I mean we can get off this plane. Sorry, slip of the tongue. I need a good sword at my back. I need you," I said, hoping to placate him.

"So all you have to do is give them every single detail of your life. All they ask is nothing less than your soul," he said, the anger rising in his voice. Good gods, I didn't understand why he was mad at me. I was barely able to stand, and he's acting like I've somehow sold him out.

"They just want my memories," I said, sighing hard. Why could nothing be easy with this man. I didn't have the strength to threaten him right now, and sometimes that was the only reason he would see. It was the only thing he respected.

"Your memories make up who you are. Lose them, and you lose yourself."

"They didn't say…" I began. Then I looked up at him. What if he was right? What if in the process of copying my memories, they took them instead? Before I could really think about that, I heard footsteps in the hallway again. This time, they were heavy enough to be a giant.

"Look, right now you have two options: hide or be seen. I'll leave it up to you. But they're going to know something's changed, because the barricade is down. And while you can probably hide in the shadows of this room, I doubt Magrith can. Even though they've said they mean me no harm, I don't think they'll take me lying to them too well. And let's not forget that they seem to know you're here." My fingers sought out the comforting feel of the pouch at my waist. At first I thought he was going to make a break for it, but then he walked over to the bed platform and stood next to me, arms crossed before his chest in a gesture of defiance.

The female giant was back, and she had someone else with her. Another female with blue skin and facial tattoos of a design I'd never seen before. They covered her forehead and cheeks and extended around the back of her neck. They were a deep blue darker than her skin, and seemed to add to the sense of power radiating from her.

The woman who'd come to me before looked at Bishop, but didn't seem that surprised to see a human standing next to me. "Your companion is welcome to stay," she said. As they entered the room, they closed the door behind them.

"This is Laneal, she will heal your wounds. My name is Eithne. Once you are healed, we will take you to meet with the Tormunath. You will discuss your requirements with him, and he will discuss the cost. Then you will leave." As she spoke, Eithne was shaking some herb in the corners of the room. The blue woman, Laneal, had begun chanting. Her tattoos began to glow, the dormant power I'd felt earlier coming to the surface.

Eithne came to the platform and pushed me down prone on the bed. Bishop looked concerned, but he was crudely pushed into the corner of the room to stand there with Magrith. He scowled at the giants, but didn't try to interfere. I think he realized that we were outmatched.

Laneal began chanting even louder in a language I'd never heard before. Her tattoos began to glow a bright blue and were edged by white light. Power seeped from her face down to her hands. A warm feeling suffused my body. The sting of the acid burns became excruciatingly painful, and suddenly faded away to nothing. The skin over those burned areas knit itself back together, whole and black as it was before I'd clumsily stumbled into that damn trap in the library. The fatigue that had invaded my brain and made a mockery of my vast intelligence dissipated like fog on a hot sunny day. I was healed.

Laneal ended her ministrations by drawing some symbol on my forehead. It was just a glyph traced with nothing more than her finger, but I felt the power of it burning into my skin. Anger rose up in me at the thought that she might have marked me somehow. "What did you just do?" I asked, my eyes narrowed in anger.

The enigmatic blue giant shrugged her shoulders in an all too human gesture. "I have only placed a glyph of healing on you. It will clear away any lingering damage done by the acid." She turned and left the room, leaving me with Bishop and Eithne.

My mind seethed with distrust and anger. That glyph could have been anything… anything! A tracking glyph, a warding glyph, even a death glyph: although I had to admit the death glyph didn't make any sense. They wouldn't have bothered to heal me if they just wanted to kill me. Unless it was set to activate _after_ I gave them my memories. Then it might make sense.

Eithne was speaking again, but in my fit of paranoia I hadn't heard her. "What were you saying?" I focused my anger on her, taking some solace in the way she flinched at my gaze. I found myself swinging my feet off the platform and grabbing my bags from Bishop.

"You will follow me now. We will meet with the Tormunath and you will exchange information. Then you will leave." She walked towards the door. Her back was to me. In a flash I could have grabbed the rapier now belted to my waist and plunged it into her back. I have to admit the desire to do so was almost overwhelming. When in doubt, kill. It had always worked for me in the past. The only thing that stayed my hand was the thought that perhaps this Tormunath would offer us another option than the one offered by the deva. And that was an offer I couldn't discount just because his servants were pissing me off.


	22. In the Hall of the Tormunath

**In the Hall of the Tormunath**

With a knowing glance to Bishop I followed the giant out into the hallway. As we walked through the ancient building, I noticed that the dust that had been everywhere when we first arrived was gone. Apparently waking up the giants had caused them to begin cleaning. I wasn't sure if that was a good sign or not, since part of the cleaning obviously involved removing us.

Eithne wound her way down hallways and up stairs and through empty halls. Everywhere was the muted sound of giant foot treads and Abyssal. The keep was in a flurry of activity that I had inadvertently kicked off with the tripping of that trap in the library. The faint sounds of conversation came through the walls in the guttural dialect the giants used. I couldn't quite hear what it was they were talking about, however.

Before too long we were standing in front of a large double door high up in the tower. Friezes were carved into the stone around the door and the center of the doors held an intricately painted design of a woman's head. She looked off into the distance, the ghost of a smile on her face. Her hair brushed her shoulders and behind her eyes was a vast intelligence. The depiction of what I assumed to be Mnemosyne gave me a shiver for some reason I couldn't name.

I looked over to Bishop and raised an eyebrow. "One of the locked ones?" I asked. He nodded, his eyes on the massive frame of the door the entire time.

The doors were pulled open and I looked into the room before us. Windows filled the wall facing us, and the two walls flanking us as well. The crimson light of Carceri filled the room with a quiet malevolence. As we made our way down the aisle I noticed all manner of strange machines glinting from behind the pillars that held up the ceiling. At the end of the aisle was a raised dais with a throne of sorts perched on the top. Here a giant sat in regal splendor. He held a rod in one hand and a vial of fluid in another.

When his steely eyed gaze fell upon me, I felt another shiver travel up and down my spine. This was the real power behind this place: he controlled them all, that was plain to see. He was dressed in a purple velvet robe circumscribed by golden runes. The ruddy light coming in through the windows highlighted the runes, making them appear to shimmer and dance on the fabric. The man himself was tall, even for a giant, and well muscled. His hair was silver, and he had a goatee that fell to his mid chest. His eyes were gray and piercing. His voice, when he spoke, was like gravel being tumbled smooth in a raging river. "So you are the thief who has invaded our sanctuary."

Now, I _am_ a thief. But I resent that being pointed out to me. Especially when it's done in such a way as to indicate that I was somehow less of a person because of it. The way the Tormunath had just called me a thief was an affront to the honor of thieves everywhere. And I was more than a simple thief. Rage blossomed in me and my eyes glowed red, matching the color of the light in this room.

"I am more than a thief, priest." I scowled. "If I chose, I could bring this building down around your ears." I summoned a crackle of lightening into my hand, just to prove my point. The Tormunath laughed: a deep dry laugh that filled the hall. Then he waved his hand and the electricity disappeared from my fingertips.

"I don't think so," he chuckled. "Still, you amuse me." He sat there, starring at me for what seemed an immeasurable amount of time. I refused to break his stare. Finally he chuckled again and flicked his wrist. The machines surrounding the aisle flickered into life. The sounds of vacuum pumps and liquids dripping and coalescing could be heard. A thrum of power surrounded us, filling the very air with its promise. I lowered my hand.

"What do you want of us?" I asked, resignation in my voice.

"You have trespassed on the holy ground of the goddess Mnemosyne. For that you must pay. But you have also done us a great favor – greater than perhaps you know. For that I will grant you a boon. But the price is the same – you must surrender your memories to me, so that I may record them for all posterity." His gray eyes seemed to see right through me. I felt that there were no secrets I could keep from this man. Imperceptibly I nodded.

Behind me I felt Bishop erupt into a seething anger. "Kelina, we know nothing of these giants. You would do well to ask a few questions before you submit to those machines. Don't be…"

I held up my hand to silence him. I turned to face him and whispered harshly into his ear, "You're right. But this man has a great deal more power than both of us. I don't think I'm being given a choice."

Turning back to the Tormunath, I put my best negotiating face on. "You speak of granting a boon – I would know the way out of Carceri." Silence met my request. The giant on the throne stroked his chin in thoughtfulness, his eyes focused in the distance.

"It is no small thing you ask of me," he replied.

"Your power is obviously much greater than mine. And you ask a great deal from me. All I ask from you is the location of a portal out of here. Preferably a portal to a prime world, or to Sigil. But any portal will suffice. Even the Abyss would be preferable to here."

Bishop let out a muffled 'humphf' sound when I mentioned the Abyss. But it was true. There were thousands of ways out of the Abyss. And I was a tiefling. I would fit in there. Here we were just another couple of prisoners – fodder for the native demons that roamed this plane. And there were very few ways out of Carceri.

"I know of a portal you could use," said the Tormunath. "I will give you its location. But first I will have your memories."

"If you take my memories, will I still have them?" I asked.

"The process makes a copy of your memories and places them within a crystal sphere. Your memories will remain intact within your mind. But by copying them, they will be viewable by anyone who chooses to touch the sphere and delve into your thoughts." The giant got up from his chair and walked down the three steps to stand in front of me. The shifting of the runes on his robe mesmerized me momentarily. I felt an urge to reach out and touch them. I squelched it pretty quickly.

He made his way over to one of the many machines clustered behind the pillars. A chair stood there, and at its top was a type of glass helm. Wires protruded from the helm and fed into a large boxy apparatus. In the center of the apparatus was a crystal sphere. The sphere was the size of a watermelon, except that it was perfectly round, and perfectly clear. When I looked into the sphere I could see myself being split into an infinity of Kelina's: each one an exact replica of myself. I shuddered.

"Sit in the chair," the Tormunath said, pointing to the seat. I gave Bishop an uneasy glance and then looked back at the giant standing in front of the sphere. I shook my head.

"I don't know…" I said, suddenly unsure of what might happen if I sat down.

"Either you do this willingly, Kelina Amphrael, or you do not. If you do, I will give you the information you seek. If you do not, you will definitely come out the worse for it, and the information you so desperately need will not be yours." He turned his back to me, fiddling with some knob on the machine.

It's never a good idea to turn your back on a thief. Especially not one who has been sentenced to eternity in Carceri. I carefully pulled my rapier from its sheath at my waist and snuck up behind the Tormunath while Bishop took care of Eithne. I held my blade to the giant's throat, a sense of satisfaction gripping me. It felt good to be holding someone's life in my hands.

He laughed. It's not usually the response I get when I hold my sharpened rapier to someone's throat. Usually they plead for mercy or their life or something equally banal. This giant – he laughed. I knew then that I'd have no choice in the matter. He was going to take my memories. Now it was up to me to recover the situation and get the information I needed. I removed the blade and sheathed it, stepping back a pace.

"You do amuse me, tiefling. Such daring! Such fire! I haven't seen the like in a great many years. Of course you know that you can't kill me. Not here. Not with the miniscule power that you possess. But still, to threaten me that way…I haven't felt my blood surge like this in many an age." He turned to me then, fire in his eyes and mirth escaping from his countenance.

"I will give you the location of the portal you are seeking. But I do need your memories." He sounded almost apologetic.

"Why?" I asked. I hadn't thought to ask that question yet, even though it was one of many burning in my brain. This whole situation seemed a little out of place in Carceri.

"The goddess demands it. We have slept far too long in the bowels of this place. We must know what has been going on while we've been away."

"You know, don't you, that I have been in Carceri a short time? My memories are mostly of a place called Faerun." As soon as I told him I felt foolish. Why give that crucial information? What if he had no use for my memories now and refused to give me the location of the portal? Sometimes, as smart as I knew myself to be, I could be pretty dim.

"It matters not. Information is information – all memories are valuable." He gestured again to the chair and this time I sat. He fitted the helm onto my head, making minor adjustments. The damn thing was heavy and hot. I felt incredibly silly, sitting in that chair with a clear helm on my head. Bishop stood where he'd been the whole time. Eithne seemed no worse for wear, although she had moved away from the ranger.

Then the Tormunath was muttering something in a language I didn't understand. I felt an electrical shock and then my eyes closed of their own accord. I gripped the arms of the chair tightly as the memories of my life began replaying.


	23. Memories Better Forgotten

**Memories Better Forgotten**

The battle at West Harbor – the first one that killed my mother – began replaying through my head. I knew I was there, but how could I have remembered with such detail and clarity at the tender age of 6 months? It was the first time I had ever seen my mother. She was a human of average height. She had golden hair and light eyes, and there was fear in her eyes. She wasn't beautiful, not by objective standards. But she was my mother. The darkness in my heart swirled and crashed around the thought of her. At least now I could remember what she looked like.

Then there were intermittent memories of Daeghun and West Harbor. Daeghun teaching me to shoot a bow: something I'd never mastered, much to his chagrin. Daeghun scolding me for some slight: Daeghun leaving me with various villagers when he disappeared into the forest on his 'hunting' trips. I had never really known where he disappeared to during those times. I only knew that he put me in the care of people who cared for me less than he did.

Then there was the incident with Wyl Mossfield standing out in vibrant lurid detail. I could see for myself that it was a turning point in my life. Much more so than Daeghun's casual neglect. More than the subtle snubbing from the villagers. My rape and battery at the hands of Wyl scarred my soul for life. It was after that that I began to enjoy tormenting the other children in the village. I began my long, slow slide into the darkness that afternoon as I was violated and beaten.

The memories came faster after that, all jumbled together. The various harvest fairs, the clumsy attempts by Bevil to kiss me. I'd almost forgotten about that. The not so friendly rivalry between myself and Amie that lead to Tarmas banning me from his teaching sessions. I _had_ forgotten about that. The scenes played out in my head, blurring together in increasing dark tones.

I saw myself stalking men in the swamp and murdering them for the fun and practice of it. I saw the night West Harbor was attacked again. The night that Daeghun had sent me out of the village to protect it. That was the night I had decided I would never return. And I hadn't, either. Not until I was forced by circumstances to return to complete the ritual of purification. Ah yes, that had seemed a grand irony at the time. Me, completing a ritual of purification when my soul was as dark as they came.

Now the events of my past seemed to slow a little. I saw the companions I had betrayed at the end. They had respected me. They had followed me, basking in my glory. Weak willed sops, every one of them. Except one. Bishop had never followed me because he wanted to walk in my shadow. He had followed me for his own reasons. I still wasn't sure what they were, but they were his own. He wasn't looking to prove anything, like the paladin was. He wasn't looking for me to solve his problems, the way the druid had. He wasn't tagging along for lack of something better to do, or for some great and noble purpose. He was just there. I found myself appreciating him all over again.

Then there was another memory that stood out in striking detail. I had been captain of Crossroad Keep for a while. I had set off on some inane journey to recover something vitally important for defeating the King of Shadows. I think this time it was getting close to the end – we were setting out to find the dragon Nolaloth. His lair was high in the mountains, and it had taken a week just to trek up to the mountains themselves. We spent another few days trying to find the glade where his ghost was trapped in its infinity of existence – not living, but unable to move on.

It had been dusk and we were settling down for the night. Bishop was off stalking some quarry so we could have fresh meat for dinner. Zhjaeve had already retired to her tent, claiming she needed to meditate. Khelgar was collecting wood for the fire, arguing with Casavir in a friendly fashion. I was by the stream, trying to catch some fish. It was the tail end of winter, and the water was freezing. There was snow on the banks of the river, and I had been looking forward to sitting by the campfire and eating whatever it was Bishop was going to bring back.

The light was failing, and the fish weren't biting. The river was fast and cold, and although there was ice on the edges of the stream it was mostly clear of the stuff. I was tired and nearly falling asleep sitting there on the bank. I had just decided to call it a day when something caught my attention on the opposite side of the bank. In my state of fatigue, I had tried to take a step towards the deer on the other bank and found myself falling into the stream.

Normally my innate resistance to cold would have protected me. But the water was so cold it took my breath away. The chill of it overran my fiendish resistance. It seeped into my bones and chilled my very soul. It took all the energy I had left to crawl out of the water onto the bank of the stream. I lay in a snow bank, shivering and freezing. Everything seemed preternaturally loud. Casavir and Khelgar were now swapping stories of the best hits they'd ever landed back at the camp. Zhjaeve's sonorous chanting filled the wood. I heard the creak of the branches above me as the snow weighted them down.

The shivering became violent in its attempts to warm up my body. But lying in the snow bank wasn't helping on that front. I was getting colder and colder. I tried to call out, but my voice was a quiet screech and couldn't be heard over the two warriors boasting a mere 100 feet from me.

Then Bishop had appeared in my field of vision. Two rabbits were slung over his shoulders and he held his bow in one hand. On his face had been an expression of… concern?

"Kelina?" he'd asked, securing his bow over his shoulder. Then he'd leaned down and felt my forehead. "Shit," had been his only response. The next thing I remember was his hands under my armpits, dragging me towards the camp. The shivering had stopped and I felt like my brain was floating somewhere above my body. It was increasingly harder to stay awake, so I let myself go to sleep, thinking I probably wasn't going to wake up from this.

I felt someone tugging at me and heard voices arguing. It sounded like Bishop and Casavir, but I couldn't be sure, as out of it as I was. Then heat had blossomed on first my left side, and then my right. I started shivering again, and someone tried to force water down my throat. Then welcome darkness overtook me and I slept.

When I began the slow ascent from sleeping to wakefulness, I realized that I was neither cold nor shivering anymore. There was warmth at my back and I was clutching a blanket at my front. Another careful assessment of my situation revealed that I was undressed. Completely. I heard the snick of someone leaving the tent and realized I'd been woken up by the disappearance of warmth at the front of my body.

I slowly opened my eyes to see that it was still dark outside. I turned to see what was warming my back and gasped in surprise as I saw Bishop lying next to me. He immediately opened his eyes, assuming a predatory smile. He was also naked, and his arm was casually draped over my waist.

"You gave us all quite a scare last night. I'm not sure the paladin will get over it," he said quietly. He began to stroke my stomach with his fingers. A shimmering heat erupted where his fingers touched, reminding me that neither of us was wearing anything.

"What happened?" I managed to croak out. I saw a water flask nearby and grabbed it, drinking deeply. My throat felt like wood shavings.

"As far as I can tell, you fell into the stream," he said, still stroking my belly. "I thought you were dead for sure. Then I realized it was merely hypothermia. I dragged you back here to warm you up." His hand moved in slow circles upward from my belly, teasingly close to my breasts. I took a big breath, trying to steady my racing heart and jangling nerves.

"So you took it upon yourself to strip off my clothes and climb into my bedroll naked?" I asked, trying to put as much scorn as I could muster into my voice. It just came out sounding weak and pathetic.

"Well, that's where it gets interesting. Apparently the paladin was worried about your honor and modesty or some such nonsense. He insisted on 'helping' me by climbing into your bedroll naked as well." I could hear real anger in his voice. I'm sure lying naked in bed with another man didn't sit well with Bishop, even if there was a woman between them and they had been trying to save my life.

Bishop's hand continued its lazy swirls upward, igniting a fire of desire within me. I'd been fighting my desire for him for months. I found myself wanting to give in and take him right then and there. But morning was coming and the others would be waking up soon.

"So where is he?" I asked, speaking of Casavir.

"Oh, he left a little while ago when he figured you were warmed up. He advised me to leave as well, but I just couldn't go." Now his other hand was reaching around my neck and grabbing my breast as I felt his mouth on my neck, kissing and nibbling and even biting me. A moan I didn't intend escaped my lips. I couldn't resist any more. I rolled over and kissed him fully on the lips, holding nothing back. The pent up desire I'd felt the time we'd been traveling together exploded within me.

The sound of the tent door flap being pulled back came to me and I pulled myself out of Bishop's embrace. Rolling over I began looking around for my clothing. I heard a snarl from behind me – desire thwarted, I suppose. I smiled. I looked up to see Casavir standing there, grim determination on his face. He held a cup of steaming tea and a plate of food. Wordlessly he offered it to me, and then he hunkered down on his heels and smiled at me. "Glad to see you're better now, my lady," he said. He sat there while I ate and Bishop silently got dressed.

I felt some remorse at having been interrupted, but some relief as well. I looked at Bishop as he finished pulling his tunic over his head, a dark look on his face. "Thank you," I said to him as sincerely as I could. He gave me a mocking salute but the darkness receded from his face. He left.

It had been that moment that I realized I was already half in love with the man. I tried to deny it to myself – I tried to turn it off, to hate him, to feel nothing for him. But none of my attempts worked. I knew he would reject any declarations of feeling from me, so I kept it to myself. No wonder that memory stood out amongst the many that had made up my life.

Then more images fluttered before my eyes: talking to Nolaloth; re-forging the sword of Gith, fighting the undead hordes as they approached Crossroad keep; Bishop's betrayal at the gate. That one played out in agonizing slowness. I almost felt like the Tormunath knew it was torturing me, so he slowed the upload down somehow. Then the rest of my brief life on Faerun played out to its dark and grisly end: that fateful blow from Casavir's hammer that ended my life.

Then the memories of what had transpired here flashed by. A pain I hadn't been aware of ceased, and I opened my eyes. The Tormunath was smiling; a big grin on his face like a cat that has just eaten a canary and gotten away with it. My eyes narrowed. I looked at the crystal ball that was lying in its cradle next to me. Before it had been clear all the way through. Now motes of light danced within: they were a kaleidoscope of colors and sizes, dancing with Brownian motion through the sphere.

My eyes snapped back to the Tormunath, who was speaking.

"Now as far as our end of this agreement goes: I will tell you of what you seek." He walked over to me and removed the helm. My scalp itched where it had been. I'm sure it was psychosomatic, but I rubbed it anyway. It felt good. The giant's eyes kept flicking over to the now full crystal orb. They were filled with a greedy look, as if he couldn't wait for us to leave so he could partake of my memories.

I have no idea how long I'd sat in that chair, but my legs had fallen asleep from being in the same position. I stood and shook them out, walking over to Bishop as I did so.

"There are two portals that I know of that leave Carceri. I believe there are others, but I do not know of them," the Tormunath began. "One you already have the means to find. The other is located in the city of Severence. That one will be difficult to get to. Here is a map of the city, with the location of the portal indicated." He handed me a scrap of parchment with a crudely drawn map of a city with a red dot where I supposed the portal to be.

I looked from the map to the giant. His gaze even now fell to the orb, his hands struggling to stay still in front of him but drifting towards the machine and the treasure it held. "What do you mean that we have the means to find one of the portals with us?" I asked, drawing his attention back to me for the moment.

"Your companion," he said, gesturing to Bishop. "He has the way to find the portal."

"What?" Bishop asked. "I have no such thing."

"But you do," the Tormunath said. "While you were in the deva's home, you took something, didn't you? A small rock, I believe?" Now the giant's gray eyes focused on Bishop, all thoughts of the orb gone for now.

"How did you…" Bishop was saying. The giant was shaking his finger back in forth and making a 'tsk tsk' sound.

"I know a great deal. That rock will guide you to the deva's sister and her portal out of Carceri. I believe there were conditions to be met. Whether you've met them or not, I can't say. That is up to her to decide. That portal is close to here – perhaps a day or two for you to walk there."

"How will the rock guide us?" Bishop asked.

"It will glow brighter the closer you get to the portal. When the portal is within sight, it will become hot to the touch. You will know. You have only to look at it to tell. Now, our conditions have been satisfied. You will leave this tower, and you will not return." He turned his back to us and walked back up to his throne. Eithne lead us out of the room and down through the tower to the main doors. Our stay with the giants was over.


	24. Of Portals and Promises

**Of Portals and Promises**

The door behind us slammed shut with a resounding boom that echoed amongst the peaks of the mountains. I hitched my pack farther up my back and looked at Bishop. He had bent down over Magrith and was whispering something in her ear. Then the dog bounded off down the trail, tongue lolling between her teeth.

I took a deep breath. I can't say the air was any cleaner smelling up here than it had been down on the plains: it still reeked of brimstone and ash, with the faint odor of the fetid decay of a swamp in the background. But at least outside of the tower it was no longer stale air my lungs struggled to breathe.

The path before us was narrow and unkempt. Again there was a long drop off on one side and the mountain on the other. We were careful with our footing, making sure of where we were stepping as we walked up the path. Magrith occasionally ran back to us and wordlessly communicated with Bishop. Then she would bound off up ahead again, her message delivered. Bishop never said anything of these communications, and I didn't ask.

Four hours after leaving the tower we came upon another door carved into the side of the mountain. It looked remarkably like the one we had entered to reach the tower. Only this time, since we were on the tower side, there was no fumbling about for an activation key. Simply pushing the door caused it to swing open. Once we were through, it shut of its own accord, leaving no indication of its presence once it was closed.

The mountains dropped away to a valley in front of us and we were treated with a spectacular view. A shimmering swath of green lay before us – a riotous jungle. In the approximate center of the wide valley was a large river slowly undulating across the landscape. Distances were hard to judge, but the river had to be immense to look as large as it did from here. On the other side of the river was a moderate city. If there was a ferry or boats plying the river, we were too far away to tell.

As I surveyed the scene before us, Bishop pulled out the rock I'd seen him occasionally worrying. It had a faint glow about it that I'd never noticed before. Apparently neither had he.

"I think we should stay on the trail – go up further into the mountains," he said, scanning the valley before us and the trail next to us.

"Why do you say that?"

He walked a few steps up the trail, towards the mountains. The stone grew a little brighter. When he returned to me, it went back to its earlier state. Then he walked down the path that seemed to eventually lead to the valley. The stone dimmed and then became dead in his hands. I nodded.

"So now the question becomes this," I said, squinting off into the distance. "Do we go to the deva's sister, or down to that city and see if it is Severence?"

"Let's go to the sister," he said. I glanced at him, trying to determine why that seemed like the better course to him.

He obviously understood my meaning when I raised one eyebrow. "Look, the Tormunath said that it was close. Why not go there first? If it's only a day or so away, we can check it out much more quickly than we can navigate that jungle down there. Not to mention that river is huge, and will take a boat to cross. Assuming there's a ferry, we'd still have about a week's journey to get to that town."

"Ok. But don't get your hopes up," I said, walking up the trail leading deeper into the mountains. "I don't think we've met her criteria!" I shouted as I disappeared around the bend of the trail.

OOO

We followed the trail for another 6 hours before exhaustion caught up with us. There was a widening of the trail up ahead, at least according to Magrith, and we made for that with what little haste we had left.

The dog was true to her word. Either that or Bishop had developed some abilities in his brief absence back at the tower that he didn't want to share. Either way, the trail widened enough to set up camp. I was tired and just wanted to lie down and sleep. But there were wards to place, traps to set, and other duties to ensure our night would be uninterrupted. While I was making the area a veritable alarm zone, Bishop wandered off to find some meat. He returned shortly with a few large eggs and something that looked like a chipmunk. We cooked up the eggs and chipmunk together, adding some tubers we'd taken from the giant's pantry. The meal passed in silence.

I was too tired to converse with him, and too busy thinking about the conditions the deva had placed on us back in that squalid little village. Bishop must have been thinking of the same thing, because once we were done and cleaning up, he began to talk.

"You know, maybe we could just kill the deva guarding this portal and walk through."

"You're proposing that we kill an angel?" I asked in a conversational tone.

"Why not? We've already killed a demon: killing a celestial would just even out the balance. Right now we're to the good, and that doesn't sit well with me." He flashed that smirky smile of his as he doused the fire.

"I don't know if we're to the good, Bishop. There were those villagers we killed before the demon, and we did threaten the life of the Tormunath and Eithne back at Mnemosyne's tower. It's going to take more than the death of one demon to put us to the good." I busied myself with cleaning up the dishes and putting them away.

"You're probably right. Still, why take the chance? Let's just kill her."

"Even if we did kill her, we would still need the key to the portal to activate it."

"So we'll just take it off her dead body," he said.

"It's not that simple," I sighed. "The key may or may not be a physical object. Sometimes it's a scrap of a song, or a feeling, or some phrase you have to repeat over and over. Sometimes it's a complicated dance, or a combination of items that activate the magic controlling the portal. There's no way for us to know, and I doubt she'll give it up. I'm afraid killing her would be both a bad idea, and physically difficult."

"More difficult than that demon?"

"Yeah. Definitely more difficult than the demon. That tarry gehreleth was a pretty wimpy demon." He snorted and nodded in agreement. We'd fought demons before, and the gehreleth hadn't been that bad, except for the annoying tarry substance it oozed everywhere.

Bishop took first watch and I went to sleep. When he woke me up a few hours later for my watch, I just sat on my bedroll, thinking.

The deva in the village, which I'd begun to think of as Bone in my mind, because of the wall – she had told us that we would have to change ourselves to be worthy of leaving Carceri. I hadn't changed. Not in any substantial way, at any rate. I certainly hadn't given up my 'quest for power' or whatever it was she called it at the time. And Bishop? He was supposed to embrace his feelings and trust me. I couldn't tell if that was something he'd done or not. He certainly didn't _seem_ to be any different. I mean, it wasn't like I was expecting him to get all mushy on me or anything. I just don't think he has it in him to accept his feelings. He has to fight them all the time, because having feelings for someone is a way that they have power over you.

In his own way, Bishop was as much of a power hungry fool as I was. He refused to yield any power over him to anyone – while I sought power for myself. I constantly strove to make myself indispensable to people. If someone _needed_ me, I had power over them. I sought to make my own innate powers stronger: new spells; better equipment; deadlier combat techniques. I didn't see my feelings as giving someone power over me. But it was disconcerting to think that I may have given up some measure of control by having feelings for a person.

Do I love Bishop? I don't know. I'd kill him in a minute if I thought he was a danger to me. I mean, there's danger and then there's _danger_, you know? These thoughts rambled through my brain without coming to any coherent conclusion. Just as I was about to give up that line of thought for good, I looked over to where Bishop was sleeping.

I felt it then – that pang of tenderness in my heart that I seem to feel a lot these days. Somewhere in the deep dark of my soul a flower bloomed, and what I felt for that man nurtured it. I was in deeper than I'd thought, because the thought of him going his own way in this world cut me to the quick. If that was love, then I was in it.

I shook him awake, watching his face come alive out of the depths of sleep. The lines on his face deepened into a scowl as he glanced around the campsite. "Where's Magrith?" he asked, sitting all the way up and rubbing his face.

"She took off a few hours ago. Haven't seen her since," I answered, standing up and backing away from him. In these rough conditions we were camping in he'd slept in his leather armor. He whistled hard twice and then cupped a hand to his ear, listening for his dog.

I found myself straining to hear her too. There was nothing but the sharp scream of some raptor as it found its prey, and the moaning of the wind through the cliffs. We packed up camp in a hurry, still hoping to hear the soft footfalls of the canine. Some tracks in the dust gave Bishop enough to go on, and we were off, looking for Magrith.

I went along with the search because I knew how attached Bishop had become to the mutt. Honestly though, I thought it was an unnecessary delay. I grumbled about following the dog for a while, but the scowls from Bishop become more and more malignant, so I stopped.

Her tracks followed the trail. We wound up through the high cliffs of the mountains. Occasionally we were treated to dizzying views of the jungle valley below us. At this height it looked like a green carpet more than a jungle. Still the path wound upward, until I wondered if we were going to bump up against the sky.

A roaring sound rose up in the distance. At first it was faint, and easily dismissed. As it grew louder, I grew more and more edgy. The sound was too steady to be a creature, but I was alert for any danger, nevertheless. We rounded a corner and found ourselves in a secluded glen. A waterfall poured over the cliff in front of us and tumbled down into the immeasurable depths. A few stunted trees grew here, and the air seemed marginally fresher for the water.

Magrith was there, sitting on her haunches and begging for scraps from a golden skinned being with amber eyes and wings jutting from her back. She was dressed in a white robe that contrasted with her skin, and her platinum hair cascaded down her back. A deva. There couldn't be too many of them here in Hell. It had to be the one we were looking for.

Bishop was standing still, looking at something in his hands. The rock he'd stolen from the deva back in Bone was pulsing. He looked up at the deva with something other than his casual smirk on his face. He whistled again and Magrith came slinking over to his side, tail between her legs.

Even without the evidence given by the stone, I would have guessed that a portal was here. I could sense a swirling vortex of magic and energy emanating from somewhere behind the deva.

"Narcath, I presume?" I said, stepping towards the deva. She looked up and smiled. The beauty inherent in that smile spread out in waves through the clearing, and for a moment, my usual distrust was dispelled. I shook my head as if to clear it of some intoxicating effect, and the mantle of my paranoia settled back into place.

The deva stepped towards me, her hand outstretched. "My sister told me you would come," she said. Her voice rang high and clear through the mountains, piercing the dim light of the plane with its truth and goodness. I shrank back from her. "You are looking for a way out of here, and you believe you have found it," she continued. Her eyes were fixed on me, paralyzing in their intensity. "You have not, for you have not met the conditions which she set forth. Why are you here?"


	25. Is There a Plan B?

**Is there a plan B?**

Stones skittered away from my feet as I rushed headlong down the path. The rocks tumbled over the edge, falling into the abyss. A fate that would probably be mine if I didn't slow down. My vision was tinged with the red that came when I was enraged. It added to the already carmine hue of Carceri, making everything seem doused in blood.Oh, I was in a foul mood. That deva had really pissed me off. I could hear Bishop silently fuming behind me as well, although whether he was mad at me or mad at the celestial I didn't know. I didn't particularly care, either. Magrith was running back and forth between us, trying to figure out what had changed. It was obvious to us both that only the dog had enjoyed any of the time we'd spent with Narcath.

Emotion boiled out of me as I raged at the situation I found myself in. I breathed, subsuming the rage until all that was left was a simmering anger. I began to take heed of where I placed my feet: I slowed down. It wouldn't do to go tumbling over the cliff and end up dead on the rocks below. My mind cleared a little, and I had a chance to think over what that damn angel had said.

"_Why am I here?" I had asked, bewildered. "I wanted to see if there's any way to get you to change the conditions so we can use the damn portal!"_

"_Why would I do that?" said the deva, her wings flexing behind her._

"_Why? Because you and I both know there is no way those conditions can be met. And if you don't change them, I'll kill you," I said, narrowing my eyes for effect. _

_She laughed. "You could try, but I doubt you'd succeed. Besides, if you kill me, then the portal will be closed to you forever. You don't possess the key."_

"_I bet those giants back at the temple could be persuaded to give us the key," said Bishop in a low voice only I was meant to hear. But damn that celestial hearing!_

"_Oh," the angel chuckled, "the Tormunath may think he knows the key, but he doesn't. Besides, his price would be just as great as mine."_

"_We've already paid his price, it didn't seem so bad," I said. Her amber eyes focused on me then, and I felt my skin crawl. _

"_It is greater than you know," she replied. "If you truly want to leave Carceri, you must change what brought you here in the first place. I believe my sister told you what you needed to do. You have gone a ways down the path, but you haven't traveled far enough."_

"_That's just it!" I yelled. My emotions have always been close to the surface, especially the darker ones, and right now the rage that simmered in the background was bubbling up, ready to take over at a moment's notice. "We don't know! Exactly what are we supposed to do? Your 'sister' was pretty vague in what she demanded of us." _

_Narcath looked at me, a feral smile spreading across her beatific face. "You, Kelina, have begun to realize that your own quest for power has crippled you. In your search for personal power, you have lost some freedom and you have lost yourself. Every now and then I see a spark of goodness in you – a lightening of the dark. But it isn't enough._

_And the ranger… he has begun to admit to himself the depth of his feelings. But he still tries to deny them in a paltry effort to maintain his supposed freedom. By insisting that he shall be tied to no one, he ties himself up in knots not even he can unravel. It is not freedom, but a cage from which there will soon be no escape. _

_No, neither of you has come far enough to prove to me that you will continue on this path once I let you through the portal. There must be more, from both of you. You came to Carceri because of what you were in the Prime. To leave you must become something else."_

_She paused, deep in thought. Bishop and I were fuming with anger. A glint of metal in the ruby light told me he had unsheathed a sword. I found my hand at the hilt of my rapier, caressing the handle like a lover. I so dearly wanted to run the celestial through, even while part of me whispered it was a bad idea. However, if she wasn't planning to let us through the portal, killing her wouldn't matter. Losing the key would leave exactly where we were now. Nowhere. But killing her would feel good – it would feel like I was at least doing something to change the situation. _

_I pulled out my sword and ran at her, a guttural cry sounding from my throat. She flicked a wrist and I went thudding to the side, skidding close to the pool of water. Bishop exchanged his sword for his bow and fired an arrow at her. The arrow bounced right before it hit and went harmlessly high above her._

_The deva's eyes glowed with rage. "You will not harm me. You _cannot_ harm me. You will leave, now. You will not return until you have changed." Then somehow both of us were several meters down the path from the glade._

OOO

We continued down the trail, both lost in thought or rage. Bishop was uncharacteristically noisy and I am sure I wasn't silent either. We arrived at the wide spot where we'd camped the night before. I stopped and threw my pack down. I paced the edge of the camp we'd set the night before, hands on my hips. The demon within me clawed at me, urging me to run back up the trail and teach that angel a thing or two about infernal blood. I had thought the rage was gone, but I found it seeping upward into my conscious again.

Bishop stopped as well. He sat on a boulder and watched me. On one of my circuits around the clearing, he grabbed my arm, forcing me to look at him. "Let it go," he said. "She's right – we can't harm her. So let it go. We'll go down the other path and cross the jungle. We'll head towards that city and see what's there." He dropped my arm, still looking at me.

I sighed. He was right. But my demonic side wanted desperately to run back to that glade and rip a hole in the celestial's throat. I imagined her blood running down my face as I tore into her with my fangs, savoring the taste of it on my tongue. I could feel her skin tearing underneath my hands, her cries adding to the pleasure of the kill…

"Kelina!" Bishop shouted, jarring me from my imagined kill. "Get a hold of yourself. You look like you're about to become completely demonic. While I normally don't mind your demonic side – _now_ is not the time. We need to decide on a plan of action, now, before we go careening down the mountains into that jungle down there."

I breathed in through my nose and blew out through my mouth for a few minutes in an effort to calm myself down. Bishop was making sense, and that usually meant I'd lost perspective. "Ok," I said. "We go to that city on the other side of the large river and see if it's Severence. We do some scouting around and find that other portal. What do you think? Is it a plan B or not?"

"Yeah. How tough is that city going to be?" he asked.

"Don't know," I replied, sitting beside him. The rocks beneath my bottom were sharp and pricked into my leather, making the seat uncomfortable. I squirmed to find a better position and wound up leaning into Bishop. He looked at me, confused for a minute. Then he put an arm around me and pulled me even closer.

"I have a feeling it's going to be bad," I said. "I don't really know that much about what types of beings live here. So far we've seen humans, giants, gehreleths and my personal favorite: devas. But there are as many types of demons as there are rocks on this path in front of us. They'll congregate in the cities; desiring the crush of the people and the accidental evil that comes with crowds. Demonic senses revel in the close contact of lots of bodies and the sensations they bring."

"Well, if anyone gets in our way, we'll kill them," he said with a sharp intake of breath. "We're good at it. Besides, it's not like we have much of a choice."

I looked into his eyes and found something strange reflected there. The bitterness and anger that was always present was there, but behind it was something not quite so dark. I reached up to touch his face, bringing my own face closer to his. When I was close enough to feel his breath on my cheek, I closed my eyes. I willed my demonic senses up to the front of my mind in an effort to make some sense of him.

When I opened my eyes they had changed from their customary black to deep red. He was still staring at me, that same enigmatic expression on his face. But my enhanced senses could make no more of it that the human ones. Hastily I pushed the demon back down before she took over. "Bishop," I began.

He stroked my face with a forefinger, following the curve of my cheek bone down to my chin. His eyes focused on my lips, desire evident in his gaze and his touch. "When we get out of here," he said, his voice low, guttural and impassioned, "promise me we'll spend a few years in the woods. Just the two of us. No quests, no destiny, no running for our lives. Just you and me and the forest."

"I promise," I whispered.

His lips met mine in a passionate kiss. There was something more in this kiss than in all the others we had shared. I felt the quickening of some emotion I couldn't give a name to deep within my belly. The kiss deepened, igniting a wave of euphoria in its wake. His hand was on the back of my neck, holding my head to his, his other hand at my waist. The kiss went on and on, and I found that I didn't really want it to stop.

Finally we pulled apart, breathing heavily. I was flushed and jittery and my stomach was in knots. What was going on? His kiss had never made me feel that way before. I found that I liked the sensation of his hand on my neck and his breath on my face.

"I…" he said. Just then, Magrith came bounding up the path, growling and snarling, her hackles raised. Bishop immediately stepped away, looking in concern down the trail. His eyes grew wide and then he was walking quickly and quietly back to me.

"Hide. Now. Cast invisibility too, just to make sure. On both of us."

The look on his face was so serious that I did what he asked. There really wasn't anywhere to hide in this little spot, but we crammed ourselves into a crevice that had a rock in front of it. I don't think we could have gotten any closer to each other if we'd tried. Before we'd jammed ourselves into the rock face Bishop had given Magrith a look and waved his hand. She had gone bounding up the trail back towards the portal.

I crouched behind that rock, trying to breathe quietly. Bishop's breath came hot and fast in my ear, and I knew his adrenaline was up. I just didn't know why, yet. Then I heard the sound of something ambling up the path. My eyes were fixed on the trail, waiting for whatever it was to appear. The trail bent around the mountain on the downhill side. I watched the spot where it disappeared behind the rock face.

An incredibly fat creature rounded the trail. It stood about six feet tall and had wings extending from its back. Its head was small for its size, and seemed to be mostly comprised of teeth. It seemed to be draped in skin, as if the skin it was wearing didn't really belong to it, even though I could see that it did. Four arms jutted out of its torso and they ended in wicked looking claws. It looked a little bit like the lone gehreleth we'd encountered on the plains, making me think it was another type of demodand. I felt myself shrinking back into Bishop. We couldn't afford a fight now. Not here, with a 5000 meter drop off and that thing with wings. All it would have to do would be to force us off the edge.

While it ambled past I barely dared to breathe. I could feel Bishop holding his breath, one hand on my shoulder and the other on his knife. The rock we crouched behind seemed to shrink as my fear of the demon grew. Its progress from one side of the clearing to the other seemed to take forever, even though I knew objectively that it couldn't have taken more than a minute. At one point it stopped and looked over where we were. I thought my heart was going to explode, it was pounding so fast. I willed it to slow before the creature could detect us just from the thudding of the blood in my veins.

Finally he was gone. We waited: frozen in our spots and breathing shallowly for a long time after it disappeared from view. We waited until Magrith came bounding back down the trail, her tail between her legs.

"What was that thing?" Bishop hissed.

"I'm not sure. I think it was another of the gehreleths. But let's not stick around for it to find us here on its way back down." He didn't really need any encouragement. We both walked as quickly as we could without endangering ourselves back down the trail, hoping to put a good distance between us and that thing.


	26. Welcome to the Jungle

**Welcome to The Jungle**

The feeling of being pursued is never pleasant. But it does make for speedy travel times. It seemed like just a few hours had passed when we found ourselves back at the fork in the path – either back to the tower or down to the jungle below. Bishop spent some time staring at the valley below us, trying to memorize likely paths through the thick foliage. We were still so high up that it was an impossible task. It didn't stop him from trying, however. After about a quarter of an hour, he nodded and started down the trail into the jungle.

The path led steeply downward. There were switchbacks and long drops and a sheer cliff on the opposite side. It was unpleasant to think on what might happen if one of us slipped. It was equally unpleasant to imagine having to hike back up this path. I found myself thanking whatever gods could hear that we were going down instead of up.

As we neared the bottom of the mountains the trail flattened out. Vegetation began to crop up more and more frequently. Instead of the normal green we were used to all the plants were red, just like the rest of this place. They all looked familiar and yet eerily different at the same time. I had been keeping my eye out for spell components, since a lot of them involve parts of plants. I would spot a plant I was sure I recognized, only to find it completely different upon further examination. I quit looking after a while.

The plants grew more numerous and the trees began to climb towards the sky. The path before us continued on, but to my eyes it was difficult to see. Bishop was leading the way, doing what he does best – tracking. The jungle was eerily silent. I had expected bird calls and the sounds of small arboreal dwellers to resound through the canopy. Instead we were greeted with a deadening silence that was only broken by our footfalls. The smell of decay and overripe vegetation was nauseating.

In front of me, Bishop held up his hand in a gesture that meant 'stop'. I did. Then I heard it: the sounds of footsteps marching through the jungle. We made eye contact and he held up one finger and then 5 fingers to indicate 15 people. Another gesture indicated that he thought we should hide in the trees while whomever it was passed us by. I agreed. There was no need to involve ourselves in whatever was coming our way. There was no guarantee they wouldn't see us if we hid, but it was pretty unlikely.

Soon enough a troop of what appeared to be some kind of demons walked by, leading about 10 humans bound by chains. Slavers. I shook my head at the irony: weren't we all slaves here? There was no escaping, not for most. I tried to be optimistic that we'd get out someday, but realistically I knew our chances were slim. But I suppose being free was still a worthwhile pursuit.

The demons called a halt and stopped the slaves. They began to talk amongst themselves. At first I had a hard time understanding their dialect: partially because their abyssal was heavily accented with some other language I didn't recognize and partially because our hiding place didn't exactly give us a good vantage point for hearing or seeing. But it was best that we not be seen, so I stayed put and tried to listen harder.

"_We need to find a way across the Styx. I won't pay the marraenoloth's patrolling the river their outrageous sums just to do a job we were commissioned to do. Ferrying should be free," said one of the demons to another. At least I presumed it was the demons speaking the heavily accented Abyssal. _

"_I agree. But we don't have any alternative other than to swim it, and you know that's no alternative at all. We'll just have to pay the sum and argue with our masters on its repayment later. There's no other way across." _

"_Fine. But if we can't get that sum refunded, it's coming out of your share. I refuse to pay it. Damn bloody stranglehold on river commerce they've got, those sodding marraenoloths'. You'd think someone would set up their own independent ferry and charge honest chink."_

"_Don't think it hasn't been tried, Fraxis. Them boatmen don't take kindly to anyone else plying their waters. Now come on, we've got to get over to Severence before they think we've gotten lost or killed out here."_

The group moved off; the demons prodding the humans with wicked looking spears. They seemed blissfully unaware of our presence, and as they marched out of sight I let go of a breath I wasn't aware I'd been holding. Overhearing that conversation had been a lucky break. Information was never free. But it could be stolen, as we had just done. At least now I knew the city we'd seen from the mountains _was_ Severence.

"Were they discussing anything important?" asked Bishop as we stepped back onto the path. I was truly amazed at how he managed to keep Magrith quiet whenever we had to hide. It was almost like they were one entity sharing two separate bodies. Either that or the mutt was smarter than I'd originally thought.

"As a matter of fact, they were. The town on the other side of the river _is_ Severence. And that river we saw winding through this valley? It's the Styx."

The ranger looked at me blankly. He shook his head slightly as if to say, "and?" I couldn't believe he'd never heard of the River Styx. It was infamous. Everyone had heard of it. Why was he giving me that 'so what?" stare of his?

"The River Styx. Surely you've heard of it and its wonderful amnesiac properties?" I said, sarcasm dripping from my voice. Good gods I sometimes felt like smacking the man.

"Yeah, I've heard of it. So what? We just have to find a way across."

"Well, that's the hard part. There are boatmen who ferry beings across, but only at great cost. There's no bargaining with them – piss them off and they dump you in the river without a second thought or a second glance behind to see if you're ok. Once you have a dunk in the river, you can't remember anything. Your name, your past, your life – gone. Washed away with the rest of the detritus of the river." I paused, thinking on what I'd just said. Forgetting. Would it work? Would it count?

Bishop was staring at me with that strange look on his face. It was a familiar look, but not one I'd figured out the meaning of yet. It usually arrived when I was busy thinking about something else. One of these days I'd have to parse out all of his expressions. But for now…

"That's it, Bishop!" I exclaimed.

"What?" he said, sounding bored and confused at the same time.

I grabbed his arm in my excitement. "We dunk ourselves in the river! We'll forget everything. Everything that made us the people we are today will be gone. The atrocities of our childhood – the events that shaped and molded us into the epitome of evil we are today – forgotten. Washed away. It would be a second chance. It would be a second life! We could return to the deva. She would have to pass us through the portal. We wouldn't be us anymore. We'd be somebody else."

He grabbed my shoulders hard and shook me. There was a fierce look in his eyes and he wasn't happy. He was mad. "THINK about what you're saying," he said. "Do you really want to lose everything that you are just to get out of here? Would it be worth it? Is escaping this place worth losing yourself? Because if we forget who we are, we won't be us anymore. We would be exchanging our old lives for new ones, and we wouldn't EVEN REMEMBER! Has it been so bad that you'd want to forget everything? It can't all have been bad!"

A haunted look came into his eyes as he finished. He let me go and took a step back, turning from me and putting a hand to his forehead. "I don't know if I'm willing to go that far," he said quietly. "I don't know if I want to forget it all. Parts of my life I'd willingly give up. But there are other parts," he turned and looked at me, the intensity of his gaze making me gasp. "There are other parts I wouldn't trade for anything. It's not worth it, Kelina. I won't do it."

A step brought me next to him and I placed my head on his shoulder. "There are things I wouldn't want to forget either, Bishop. You would be one of them." I looked up at him and brought his head around to face me. "But if we truly have feelings for each other, wouldn't they stay, even though our memories are gone?" I kissed him, caressing his back with my other hand.

"Would you take that chance just to escape? I'd rather spend the rest of my days here, than forget everything I have ever known and everything I've ever been. It's not worth it." He kissed me back, his arms lifting me up off the ground a little. "Besides," he whispered in my ear, "we both take a perverse pleasure in being what we are. What fun would a second chance be?"

He was making sense again. Which meant I had lost my perspective. Again. It seemed to be happening more and more frequently. The strange and warped energies of this plane were starting to affect me in ways I had never foreseen. I desperately wanted to get out of here. But he had a point – was the cost of leaving worth losing my identity?

"How about we keep the Styx option in reserve, in case we get really desperate?" I asked by way of a compromise. I still thought the plan had its merits. I didn't think we'd lose _everything_. But I didn't know for sure either.

He snorted. "Whatever."

I nodded to myself, happy he hadn't totally shut the idea down. He was at least considering it. "You know, if I got dunked in the Styx, I wonder if the giants back at Mnemosyne's temple could restore my memory? I mean, they did record everything about my life. You think that device of theirs might go both ways?" I asked as we began walking down the leaf strewn trail.

"Don't know – don't care. We're not going to douse you with the river water just to find out, either. Put the idea out of your head." He moved ahead of me, disappearing into the trees. Magrith cocked her head at me and followed him. I shook my head, a smirk on my face. Then I too followed my man into the wilderness.


	27. Down by the River

**Down by the River**

The jungle was interminable. Hot, damp and smelling of rotting vegetation, it went on and on without a break. The trail sometimes disappeared for what seemed like miles, only to suddenly reappear in the undergrowth, looking like a major road after hacking through the camba vines. At first I had used my rapier to hack at the vines and brush, but then my common sense kicked in and I pulled a scythe out of my bag. It worked much better, and had the added advantage of not dulling the shit out of my favorite blade. Bishop was ahead of me, also hacking away. I offered him the scythe, since he was in front, but he said he didn't need it. And it did seem that he had an easier time finding a way through the brush and vines and trees than I did.

Eventually we came upon a clearing. It wasn't large – maybe 6 feet across. Tall trees rose up into the heights above us. There were six of them in a circle. A fairy ring, I'd always known that to be. One tree dies and six more spring up in its place, leaving a hole in the center. Druids hailed them as magical places. For now, it would do to camp in. The wall of trees made an easily identifiable boundary to place warding spells. Bishop ordered Magrith to patrol outside the circle of trees, and we settled down to eat and get some sleep.

Dinner was a sorry affair. Our supplies were running low, and neither of us was comfortable enough with the local flora to try eating it. When there's only meat on the menu, even prime steaks can taste unappealing after a while. We ate our overcooked meat skewered on green wood, sitting on deadfall that littered the forest. The small fire we'd risked had been doused immediately after the cooking was done. It was too hot for a fire anyway, and we certainly didn't need any extra attention.

We sat in a comfortable silence. Our knees touched, and my arm lay on Bishop's leg. Nearby I heard Magrith patrolling the camp, circling around the trees and stopping every 3 revolutions or so. It was almost homey. Almost I could pretend we were back in the Mere. If it weren't for the baleful red light emanating from the ground and the utter lack of normal night sounds, that is.

"Would it be so bad if we were stuck here?"

The question startled me. Not because of its content, but because in all of our time on this plane, Bishop had seemed the most eager to leave. He had come the closest to meeting the deva's demands. Now he seemed to be capitulating and giving in. Succumbing to the slow but relentless beat of inevitability in the air, was he giving up hope of ever escaping? If he gave up hope, then I surely couldn't be too far behind.

"I don't know," I answered. "This place is perilous, but maybe not more so than returning to the sword coast would be. At least for us, now that we've betrayed Neverwinter. They'll be looking for us, I'm sure. We'd have to disguise ourselves or move far away. Chult, maybe. Or Rasheman. Maybe to absolutely safe, we'd have to beg passage on a boat to Kara Tur. Or perhaps Amn would be far enough away. But then, Amn doesn't exactly welcome spellcasters…"

"And if we'll have to be in unfamiliar territory, why not here?" he said.

"Because eventually the realities of Carceri will catch up to us: we'll become paranoid and delusional shells of our former selves. We won't trust anyone, we'll see plots and treachery in every conversation; in every step on the road. And while that may have served us well in Faerun, it won't serve us here. One of us would eventually kill the other. I don't think I could live with that."

We lapsed into silence, broken only by the sound of Bishop sharpening his blade on the whetstone. Magrith still patrolled the perimeter, and the warding spells were humming in the background. I crawled over to my bag and slept.

After we rested, we broke camp and continued on through the jungle: hacking our way through the thick undergrowth and occasionally stopping to rest and drink from our slowly diminishing water supply. I was spending a considerable amount of time thinking about how we were going to get across the Styx. Apparently there were ferries for hire, but I didn't know what type of currency they took, or whether they would ferry petitioners. Bishop seemed to think of me as knowing everything we needed to know, here. I didn't. I just barely scratched the surface with what I knew. And I didn't know the Styx at all.

We'd been trudging along for 6 hours or so when the terrain began to change. The land began to slope down, just a little. The trees became thicker, if that was even possible. The going got rougher and rougher. Bishop called a halt twice to sharpen his sword, and our water was perilously low. The trail disappeared and reappeared at random intervals, and tracking was becoming hard even for the ranger.

In the background was the slow sound of water moving, and I knew we were close to the river. Bishop heard it too, and we both slowed down. It wouldn't do to bumble along and stumble into the river: not that river, anyway. The river was on my mind constantly, and the sweet oblivion it could bring. But Bishop was right: as attractive as forgetting my entire life sometimes seemed, there were aspects of it I didn't want to lose. And one couldn't choose what they forgot.

Being a mage had me thinking more academic thoughts about the river. If a person just dipped the tip of a finger in, how much would they forget? An afternoon? A day? A year? Or did submersing any part of you, no matter how small, lead to the complete amnesia that people seemed to think? Could you ever get those memories back? And what happened to those people that were traveling alone? Did they wander forever, trying to remember who and what they were?

As immersed in these thoughts as I was, I didn't notice that Bishop had stopped. I walked right into him. The bank dropped away from us, rolling down into the river. The Styx was wide: its slow current flowed past us carrying detritus from upstream. The water was muddy and opaque, and there were occasional swirls of some oily substance that gave those spots a chromatic hue. Across the huge expanse of the river I could see lazy whirls of smoke rising into the air. Severence. Upstream from us was a dock of sorts, and a small, rickety looking boat was moored there. A tall, thin creature stood in the boat, and it was covered in a black robe that disguised its features.

We made our way cautiously towards the dock. The creature in the boat had spotted us, and now followed our progress. There was something about it that made me uneasy, but I tried to shake off the feeling. The closer we got to the boat and the stranger inside it, the more apprehensive I felt. At this point, Bishop was following me, trusting in my greater knowledge of the planes to decipher what exactly was manning the small water craft.

Once, back before I died, I had had several long conversations with Ammon Jerro. Being a tiefling, I had a curiosity about demons and devils. Call it a desire to know about my heritage, if you want to. Ammon was better than any library – he'd actually been to the Hells and the Abyss. He had seen first hand the battlefields of the blood war; had consorted with demon princes and devils. He knew, more than any one else, what they were like, and what it was like to carry a part of their infernal nature in one's veins.

He had told me once that demons and devils had distinct auras about them – that for someone with demonic or devilish taint it would be easy to discern which was which. I had felt a lot of demons here, in Carceri. The gehreleths, while not quite of demon kind, were closer to demons than devils. But the creature manning the water craft? I got no reading off it what-so-ever. It chilled me to the bone. Because during those conversations, Ammon had mentioned a race of evil beings called the yugoloths. He had said that they were the true masters of the Blood War. "If you ever run into one of them," he'd said, "run the other direction." When I asked him how I'd know what I was seeing was a yugoloth, he'd said that I'd know because it would feel evil, like the demons and devils do, but it would be neither. And that's what I was sensing from the creature at the river.

My feet slowed of their own accord as I approached the dock where the boat was moored. Bishop must have sensed my unease, because he had an arrow nocked in his bow and his body was tense. I gripped the hilt of my rapier more tightly as I felt my heart beat faster. Adrenaline slammed through my body, kicking my senses into overload. The demonic part of me began to surface, and still I didn't know what manner of creature stood before me.

It wore a long, gray robe with a cowled hood. From beneath the hood, pale eyes flashed in a skeletal face. In its right hand it gripped a gnarled staff. If I hadn't known better, I would have sworn that the creature was some kind of undead. A palpable sense of evil rolled off the boatman, and I had to guard myself against being afraid of it. Behind me, Bishop stopped abruptly. I glanced at him quickly and saw that he was trying to get a hold of himself as well.

I steeled myself and walked up to the gaunt boatman. I had no idea what language it spoke, so I started with Abyssal. Most creatures here seemed to understand it, and I knew it well. I had just began to ask how much to ferry us across the river, when the fiend spoke in a low gravely voice.

"I speak common, demonling," it growled. The sound of its voice did nothing to allay my sense of impending doom.

"We seek passage across the river, to the town of Severence," I said, trying like mad to keep my voice steady.

"There is a fee for such an act," it said. It looked from me to Bishop and back again, and a rictus of a smile crossed its face. With one skeletal finger, it beckoned me towards it. In order to get closer, I had to step onto the skiff. It wobbled a little as I stepped on board, and I heard a sharp intake of breath behind me. I looked down into the swirling black water of the river. It wouldn't do to fall in there – not now.

"What is your fee?" I asked, my voice sticking a little on the last word. Behind me I heard Magrith begin a low growling in her throat. She was just as unnerved as Bishop and I were. I hoped that her growls wouldn't offend the boatman. I didn't think that would go well for us if it did.

"The fee is 2000 gold, or your archer's bow," the fiend said. Panic rose up in me. I was pretty sure that we didn't have that much gold. And I was equally sure that Bishop wasn't going to part with his weapon. In fact, I turned and saw him clutching it closer to his body, his head stiff with refusal. I turned back to the boatman.

"Let me see if I have that," I said. I desperately wanted to back off the skiff, but there was something in the fiend's eyes that kept me glued to my spot. I pulled off my pack and began looking through it for the pouch of gold that was in there. I found it near the bottom and pulled it out, then began counting the coins, praying to whatever gods were listening that we'd have enough.

We didn't. I counted 1000 in gold and a few gems not worth counting. I glanced back at Bishop and saw him shaking his head. He held up his fingers to indicate that he had 500 in gold and nothing else of value. My heart rose up into my throat. I looked up at the boatman as I hastily put the gold away.

"We don't seem to have that much gold. And my friend won't part with his bow. Is there something else? Can I convince you to ferry us for 1500 gold?" It would take up all of our available cash, but something told me that the boatman wouldn't take well to being underpaid.

The pale eyes underneath the hood flashed red, and I felt real fear. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw the staff it held being raised above its head, and then it connected with my head. My balance was lost, and I began to tumble over the side of the boat.

"No!" Came a strangled cry from behind me as I hit the water of the Styx.


	28. After the Fall

**After the Fall**

I climbed up the bank of the river, dripping with what I assumed to be water. A man was standing above me on the bank, looking at me with concern. He took a step towards me. I didn't know him. Panic rushed through me. I didn't know him, but he seemed to know me. I wracked my brain for a name. The panic intensified, gripping me in a vise that barely allowed me to draw breath. I couldn't remember my own name; who I was; where I'd come from or anything else.

My hands were black as night (night?) with long fingers that ended in claws. I ran a hand over my scalp to find it smooth with two bony protuberances – horns. What was I? I seemed to be a different species than the man in front of me. And how did I know he was a man?

He moved towards me, his movements graceful and catlike. He was taller than me by half a foot or so, and handsome. Scars criss crossed his face and what I could see of the rest of his body, but they added to, rather than took away from, his attractiveness. His hair was short, wavy and golden brown. Amber eyes regarded me with unease. He was reaching out a hand to help me up the bank. I took it and scrambled the rest of the way up to stand gasping at his side.

"Kelina," he said, his hands back down at his side. "Do you remember me?"

Kelina… was that my name? I looked around but there was no one else, except a dog (dog?) and I doubted he was talking to it. There was a touch at my shoulder and I turned to look at him. "No," I said. So I could remember language, but not my name, or his? Curious.

He sighed. "I'm Bishop. Does that help?"

I shook my head. "Are we together?" I asked. It seemed logical. He seemed to care for me and had obviously waited around for me after I fell into that river. What was that river? Why couldn't I remember? Panic began to well up inside me again.

"Yes." He looked uncomfortable. He started to say something else, and then stopped. He looked around, looked at the dog, then he focused those beautiful eyes back on me. "I'm your companion… and lover," he said. The last part seemed particularly difficult for him to say. He took a step closer. His hand caressed my cheek. A surge of emotion went through me. So I may have forgotten my name, his name, everything about my life: but emotions I remembered. I loved him.

"We love each other?" I asked. My hands were clasped in front of me as I looked into his eyes. He stepped closer still, his hands at my shoulders. He leaned down and brushed my ear with his lips.

"Yes," he said gruffly. Lips traced kisses across my earlobe and down my neck. A line of soft kisses trailed up my chin to find my lips. Fire ignited in the wake of his mouth, and I drank deeply of him as our mouths met in a hot rush of passion. His arms encircled me, holding me tightly against him. My lips parted at the pressure of his tongue against them and I was lost in the wet embrace of his mouth.

The kiss ended as he pulled away, caressing the top of my head. "Let's go see if you were right," he said. He walked back into the jungle without another word. The dog followed him. I have to be honest, I debated with myself whether I should as well. I didn't remember the man. But my body knew him. Of that I was certain. That kiss showed me that while my memory may be gone, my feelings for him still remained. I followed after him, shaking my head.

The jungle smelled badly. I couldn't put a name to the things that it smelled of, all I knew was it assaulted my senses in every way possible: from the sticky heat to the prickling of the insects that were biting me. Still I followed Bishop. He seemed to know where he was going, as I surely didn't. He also seemed to have a plan, which was again something I was lacking. And it bothered me. I don't know why. It just seemed to me that I should be the one leading this little duo.

But my memory was gone. I had tried engaging him in a discussion, but he quickly silenced me. "Now is not the time," he'd hissed, making a cut off signal with his hand. "Try to be as quiet as you can – there are things in this place whose attention we don't want to attract." Then he'd been off again, loping quietly through the underbrush with the dog following at his heels.

As I followed along behind him, I found that my feet naturally fell in the spaces between the sticks and the bushes on the floor of the forest. My body nimbly dodged and ducked the branches and vines hanging about without a conscious thought from me. And even though the man in front of me was moving quickly, I was keeping up with him without a second thought. And it was quiet – quieter than I'd thought possible.

As we traveled, I tried to glimpse a little more of my surroundings. There was a part of me that could feel the pull of something in the air – some kind of energy field that seemed to be all around me. I resisted the temptation to gather it to myself. A feeling in the pit of my stomach told me it would be a bad idea to start playing with things I couldn't name. There would be a time and a place for that.

We stopped. Bishop disappeared for a while, leaving the dog to guard me. When he returned he carried two small birds, which he promptly spitted and stuck over the small fire he had started before he left.

He gestured to my pack and I unquestioningly handed it over. Some small part of me twinged at trusting him so, but I felt that I didn't really have a choice. So far his intentions towards me seemed benign. He rummaged through my belongings and pulled out a small book. Wordlessly he handed it to me, placing my pack next to me and staring at me expectantly.

The book was dark and worn, as if it had endured a countless number of fingers prying it open to plumb its depths. An arcane (how did I know that?) symbol was inscribed on the cover, and it thrummed with an energy that was hauntingly familiar. I touched it, and as the tip of my claw glanced over the symbol it came to life: shining out with a cool white light.

I carefully opened the book to find page after page of writing and symbols. As I read the first page, it suddenly struck me what the book was. I held in my hands a spellbook of my own. Inscribed within this tome were the doings of all the spells I knew (had known), and the proper reagents, gestures and vocalizations to cast them. I looked up at Bishop, questions in my eyes.

"I can tell it's familiar to you," he said, coming over to sit with me. "Every night before we sleep you open up this book and intone some of the spells it contains. I think it's how you memorize them so you can cast them upon waking." He reached over my shoulder and opened the book to a specific page.

"This one was one you memorized every night," he said, pointing to a page half covered in writing. The title of the spell was fireball, and an incantation followed. I began repeating the words to myself, slowly at first. As I said the strange words, I felt that energy I'd been sensing all day coalesce within myself. As I finished, something clicked inside my head. I knew that if I needed it, that spell would be available to me after I woke up.

"What others?" I asked, eager to try again. Bishop turned to another page and pointed out a second spell. I read it to myself again, with the same results. We repeated the process until I felt that my brain was full to bursting with the knowledge of spellcasting. "No more," I said, putting the book back into my pack.

But the pack contained other treasures. There were gems and items that were imbued with the energy I'd felt while memorizing those spells. There were weapons, also imbued with magical energy. I pulled out a long, narrow sword. A rapier, my mind recalled for me. As I stood up and gripped the weapon, I realized that I could probably use it, if I needed to.

Bishop stood as well, removing a sword from his belt. "Would you care to spar with me?" he asked. Mutely I nodded. My body seemed to know the stances and the cadences of combat. As he circled me, I found myself bouncing lightly on my feet, wary and watching him out of the corners of my eyes. Suddenly he lunged at me and I deftly jumped to the side, bringing the rapier out as I did so, coming close to nicking his arm.

Bishop moved in closer, his sword glinting in the red light. He held it down low as he circled around again. I moved in towards him, feigning a lunge and at the last moment I pulled back. As he moved in to meet me, I tapped him on the arm with my rapier, not wanting to actually cut him with it.

The match went on for a few more rounds, both of us carefully avoiding actually damaging the other. Bishop called a halt after 10 minutes or so. "It seems you still remember how to fight," he said, sheathing his longsword. "That's good, at least we won't be completely screwed if something comes after us."

He sat against a log, taking a long drink from his canteen. Along the way in our travels through this jungle, we'd come across a stream and refilled our water supplies. The water didn't taste all that great, but it was wet and free of poisons. His long legs stretched towards the firepit, the fire long since doused. I sat next to him, thousands of questions running through my head and no nerve to voice them.

"Your name is Kelina Amraphael," he said. "You're a tiefling, which means your grandfather was a demon. You've always had a great deal of control over your demonic urges – I don't know if that's something you learned to do or if it's some innate ability of yours. I haven't seen your demonic side come out once since you got cast into the river. Although in the past I've only seen it when you were fighting and really, really mad."

My hand went up to the horns on my head. "Yeah," he said, "That's where those come from. That and the claws. Other than that you appear to be human. Which is what I am, by the way."

"Thank you," I said. "Did I go willingly into that river, the one that took my memory?" The question had been burning in the back of my brain all day, and I only now found the time to ask it.

"No. You were trying to negotiate our passage across the Styx with a demon of some sort. He didn't like what you said, I guess, because he brought up this wicked looking staff and struck you with it. That knocked you into the river. As soon as you went over the side of his skiff, he just disappeared."

"Oh," I said. I had a feeling that if I'd willingly gone into the river, he would have left me there for dead. He didn't seem like the type (how would I know?) to forgive and forget.

"Listen," he said, looking directly at me. "Before this happened, you had your memories, well, copied, for lack of a better word. My plan is to get you back to the people who have them and see if they can restore your memories. We should reach them in another day or two, providing we don't have any encounters with the local wildlife.

You should get some sleep," he added. I did feel tired, and the energy of the spells I'd read was still thrumming in my head. Crawling over to the bedroll, I laid down and was asleep before my head touched the pillow.


	29. Dealing with the Devil

**Dealing with the Devil**

Something about the light here seemed unnatural. The way it emanated from the ground into space, a lurid crimson glow that threw no shadows – it grated on my nerves. I couldn't remember anything but that carnelian light and yet it didn't feel right. The jungle stretched on interminably and still we walked on. The air was dead and still, heavy with humidity and apprehension, although whether it was ours or the denizens that lived there I wasn't sure.

Who I really was was still a mystery to me. Bishop had mentioned a few things the night before, but as we walked through the jungle he was silent. The only thing that seemed to be gone was the sum total of my personality: all the skills I'd had before my dunk in the Styx were still with me. Now we were on some crazy quest to retrieve my stolen memories. I didn't know if we'd be successful, and I wasn't even sure it was a good idea. The way Bishop was acting led me to believe that getting myself back was going to be a painful, possibly deadly process. Were those fleeting moments imprinted on my brain worth that? He seemed to think so.

The thick underbrush fought against me as we clambered through it. The sight of the ranger in front of me was mesmerizing. I found myself inextricably drawn to him. When he'd kissed me yesterday, I had felt the ignition of a wide sweeping fire come over me, and I knew that I loved him. But it had begun to fade as he let me go, dying to an ember as I lay my head down to sleep. Now I watched him as he walked in front of me. He was possessed of a feline like grace that made the canine traveling next to him look like a plodding cow. His head swiveled from side to side, alert for any noise out of the ordinary. The muscles under his armor were tensed and ready to spring into action. He was beautiful.

The heat beat us into submission, washing over me like a wave. My belly grumbled. Up ahead a clearing opened up so we stopped for lunch and a rest. I sat, fingering the rips in my cuirass, wondering where they'd come from. The armor was of outstanding quality – no wonder I'd kept it despite the rips and tears in its weave. There was a magic thrumming under the surface of it – woven into the very threads. I didn't remember what it did, or how to summon it, but I could feel it there, whispering in the back of my mind.

"You were – are – an arcane trickster," Bishop said quietly as he fiddled with a stick, drawing circles and patterns in the dirt in front of him. He snorted, looking up at me as he spoke. "I thought I was graceful, and then I saw you come slinking into that piss hole of a tavern your uncle ran. The way you moved was like silk sliding over ice: with a natural grace that you were barely conscious of. To see you walk in with another tiefling, an elf and a dwarf - it was unheard of. But you walked into that place like you owned it – like the world owed you a favor just for living, and I suppose it did at that.

I could smell it on you – power and a destiny so great it would tear us all apart. It drew me like a moth to the flame, and I fought it, clawing and kicking, all the way. I couldn't resist it anymore when that fight broke out in Duncan's inn. He called my debt due, and I knew that your destiny and mine had finally collided. Thing is, I didn't regret going with you – ever. Not even at the end, when I couldn't take it anymore and I betrayed you.

The look on your face – I almost couldn't go through with it. You were so mad and I could see my death in your eyes. Even though I had known it would be that way, it still cut me to the quick. I've never seen you that mad, before or since. And to know it was directed at me..." He looked up at me, his amber eyes mournful and a little sad. "And you don't remember any of it – not the epic struggle to reforge that gods damned sword – not the incessant attacks by the githyanki – the trip to see the fire giants on Mount Galardyme – that drafty tomb of a keep they bequeathed you – the dragons, the elves, the dwarves – the nights and the fights we've had together since we reincarnated here - none of it. All of it washed away in that friggin' river.

I don't know whether to be happy that you can't remember why you shouldn't trust me, or sad that you don't remember the time we've shared since we died and woke up here in Carceri." He stabbed the stick into the ground, the tip of it driving 5 centimeters into the dirt. In one coordinated move, he rose up from the ground, shouldered his pack and began moving down the trail. "Come on," he said over his shoulder, "we've got somewhere to be."

Eventually, the jungle began to thin. Trees became more sparse and less towering. The underbrush thinned out and became respectable again, allowing us a path where there was none before. The ground began to slope slightly upwards and the air dried out a little, giving a small relief from the damp of the jungle. Then, rising up ahead was a large mountain range. It stretched from horizon to horizon, jutting up into the air like a giant fist of rock. Looking up into the sky, I saw orbs, like moons, poised in the air. The mountains in front of us blended into one. It looked like you could walk to that other sphere, if you dared.

"What are those?" I asked, pointing at the orbs anchored in the sky above us, each one smaller than the last, as if it were further away.

Bishop peered upward, squinting his eyes. "Don't know. You never explained that to me. I suppose now you don't remember. Doesn't matter anyway, we're not going there." He hitched his pack into a more comfortable position and walked off, heading up the trail that wound through these brief foothills into the mountains. I followed.

Dirt kicked up around my feet every time I took a step. My gait had become shuffled and slow, and I risked falling behind. The light weight of my water bag reminded me that I was perilously low on that precious fluid, and I licked my lips. Determination drove me forward, but I was so exhausted from toiling up this path that I could no longer see straight. A mantra kept going over and over in my head, "One more step, one more step, one more step." All that existed for me was the sound of my feet crunching dirt underneath and my breath through my nose.

Gravity played tricks with me, and I found myself kneeling on the path, breathing hard and trying to stand back up. A hand wavered in front of my face and I grasped it, pulling myself to my feet. Amber eyes met mine, their look determined and set. "Dig deep and summon the demon, trickster," he said. "There's no place to stop, here."

I had felt the demon beating at me since my swim. It lurked in the recesses of my psyche, waiting to be unleashed. I had kept it there, purposely, afraid of what releasing such a chaotic force might do to my fragile mind. But the mind isn't fragile – it holds onto what it can, and discards what isn't needed. It can forge a new path where one didn't exist, bridging gaps and going around obstacles. It is resilient. The fire of the demon burned through, and the world took on a red hue. Strength flowed outward and into my fatigued body, giving it new endurance to face the steep trail.

Nodding at my companion, I began walking again. Forgotten was the thirst, and the fatigue, and the slow movement of my limbs. Energy burned through me, borrowed from some other source, and I walked quickly now.

Water trickled through the rocks. A small creek tumbled down into the valley below, and the tinkling of it as it splayed over the rocks made our mouths water. We stopped and refilled our flasks, splashing the cool liquor on our faces and our necks.

The trail didn't seem so steep, after that. A few kilometers passed, and a fork split and wound away to the right. Bishop never hesitated – he turned to the right and kept on walking, sure of where he was going. The dog followed. I still didn't know its name. I'm sure I did at one point, but with everything else Bishop had been trying to tell me, the animal's name had fallen by the wayside.

Another kilometer passed and a wall of rock stretched upward before us. The path ended here, but footprints in the dirt went right up to the wall. "It's a secret door," Bishop said. "You need to cast a spell."

"What spell?" I asked, completely confused. I knew I could do it, but I had yet to attempt a spell since losing my memory. "I think it's knock," he said, thumbing through my spell book. I found myself wondering if I had shared my book with him, because he seemed awfully familiar with it. Or had he sneaked the knowledge of it away from me? It didn't matter, in the end. It was good he knew his way around the spells in there, for I wasn't familiar with them any longer.

The incantation on the page he had turned to was familiar, and one I had memorized the night before. Now was the hard part – casting. I pulled the components out of the pouch at my waist. A pinch of iron was all it needed. I ground the pinch between my fingers, focusing on the feel of it. I drew the energy surrounding me around myself, shaping it into a key. "_Percussus," _I said. The energy flowed out of me in an instant, leaving a void behind. Then the grating sound of rock against rock, and a door was framed in front of us.

"Nice job," said the ranger as he scooted through the opening in the wall. I followed quickly behind him, unsure of how long the door would remain open. A few more hours down the trail and Bishop suddenly stopped. The trail wound through a small canyon with rock on both sides.

"Look," he said as he shuffled the pack of his back and began digging through it. "We're headed towards the temple of Mnemosyne. She's some long forgotten goddess of memory, kind of ironic, don't you think?" he smirked up at me, still rooting through his pack. "Last time we were here, they captured your memories. It was the price you were willing to pay to find the location of a portal out of here. For all the good it did us. Well, I don't expect they'll welcome us back. In fact, they told us never to return."

I shook my head in confusion. "So why are we going back to them? They obviously don't want us around."

"Well, things have changed. I'm willing to risk it. So here's my plan. We'll do it their way first. You go up to the door and ask them if they'll return your memories to you. If they agree, come back and get me. If not, just come back and we'll move on to my backup plan."

"Why do I have to go up there alone?" I asked, suspecting the answer.

"In case there's a problem. Then I can bail you out. I'll hide back here by the cliff, and if they try to kill you, I'll be ready."

"Couldn't you be just as ready by the front door?"

"They might be expecting that. If you wander up there, alone, lost, memory less, they might take pity on you and restore your memories. If I'm with you, the chances of that happening go down to zero. Trust me."

From his pack he produced a potion. The pale green liquid sloshed around in the bottle, looking all the world like someone's regurgitated lunch. He held it out to me.

"What the hells is that?" I asked, taking the bottle but holding it at arm's length.

"If you're going to earn their pity, you have to look the part. It's poison."

"Poison!? Just how does me being poisoned help us here?" I was not liking the direction this was taking. Maybe he was tired of leading me around, trying to shove lost moments back into my head. This could just be his way of getting rid of me without having to put forth too much effort. In the back of my mind, some little voice gave a sigh of relief at my suspicious.

"It's not a strong poison, and you're somewhat immune anyway. All it will do is make you look pathetic. Just enough to get their sympathy up."

"I'm not sure it's worth trying. What if they try to kill me? And I'm weakened by this poison?"

"That's why I'll be back here, bow in hand, waiting for their reaction. Trust me, the plan will work."

There didn't seem to be another viable option. The stopper came lose with a pop and a swampy, foetid smell reached my nose. Tilting the bottle to my mouth, I poured the contents in in one fell swoop, hoping to get it over with. It tasted worse than it looked. The liquid felt greasy going down, coating the inside of my mouth with a foul taste. My stomach immediately rebelled and I retched hard, bringing up half the contents of the bottle. I wiped my mouth with the back of my hand, aware that my breath smelled of something awful.

"Just for that I should make you kiss me," I sneered. Bishop, to my great surprise, moved closer to me. I thought for a second that maybe he would kiss me, but instead he handed me his knife.

"Put this through your belt. Leave the rest of your belongings here. It will be more convincing."

Trying hard not to think of my roiling stomach and the poison creeping through my veins, I walked down the trail towards a hulking stone edifice. It wasn't far, but with every step the poison etched a little farther into my body. My strength fled, and soon I was shuffling my feet. Sweat poured out of my skin and the back of my hands began to look pasty. A desert sprung up in my mouth, and no amount of water would ease my thirst.

Somewhat immune? How bad would I be feeling if I wasn't somewhat immune? Cursing the man who'd brought me to this, I found myself in front of a large ornately carved door. Figures danced and cavorted in the frieze, and with the fever of the poison setting in they seemed to move of their own accord. A rope dangled in front of me, its position constantly changing. The third time I tried, I managed to grab hold of it. I leaned into the rope and a deep clanging issued forth.

Standing become onerous. I leaned against one of the doors, hoping like mad that whoever lived here would open the other one. Amidst the carvings a rectangle suddenly disappeared, and two blue eyes peered at me. A deep feminine voice issued from behind the door. "Go away. We told you to leave. You are not welcome here."

"Please," I gasped, amazed that I could speak at all. "I need your help. I fell into the Styx and just barely made it back here. I know you have my life stored up there in your tower. I wrote it down on a scrap of paper. I need it back." I gave her my best hang dog look.

"Wait for a moment." The cover slammed shut and I found myself staring at the madly cavorting figures again. They began to sway and move, colors changing and shadows lengthening. When I was just about to give up and slink back to Bishop, the blue eyes were peering at me again.

"I'm sorry, but we can't help you. Not with your memories, anyway. The Tormunath was quite insistent that you leave." A small door opened at my feet and a bottle was shoved out of it. "You obviously need some help of another kind. Drink this potion, it will cure what ails you." Then she was gone.

The potion was clear and colorless, and smelled slightly of apples. Apples? What were apples? I drank it down, and almost immediately my stomach stopped rebelling against me. My head quite reeling and my vision returned to normal. The walk back to Bishop was much quicker than the walk out to the tower.

"No go?" he asked, fingering the fletching on his arrow as he stared at me.

"They gave me an antidote and sent me on my way."

"Well, it's probably just as well," he said, standing up straight. "Now we'll do this our way."

"What way is that?" I asked, a sudden fear blossoming in my belly.

"We sneak up to the tower, break in and steal your memories. Should be easy, considering that's what you do for a living..."


	30. Assaulting the Fortress

**Assaulting the Fortress**

'Do it _our_ way'. The words echoed through my head over and over as I hugged the rocks, darting from one to another in my slow progression towards the tower. Our way. Pfhhh. I didn't know what my way was, and I was trusting a man whose sense of reason seemed to have disappeared along with my memories. Yeah, I admit, it would be nice to know who I really am, where I came from and what brought me to this lovely place, but it wasn't worth dying for. He apparently disagreed with me.

I hazarded a glance over at him. He was about 10 yards in front of me staring intently at the tower as it loomed in front of us. Soon we would run out of rocks to hide behind, and I wasn't sure that it would even matter. The tower looked to be impregnable, and with the secret doors guarding the entrance and exit from this high mountain valley, I was convinced the giants within gave no thought what so ever to their security. Who in there right mind would assault this place? There was nothing of apparent value there. Just a bunch of clerics and monks, paying homage to a fallen goddess whose crimes had brought her here.

How did I know that? Every now and then, some flash of prescient memory oozed forth from the recesses of my mind. It seemed that the amnesiac properties of the Styx hadn't worked their full effect on me. Maybe I was partially immune, as I was to so many other things due to the demonic nature of my blood. Perhaps my time spent here already had acted as a restorative balm, or a protection of sorts. Either way, it seemed that memories weren't truly forgotten.

The last boulder was barely large enough to shelter us both. I slunk down onto my haunches, hands on my knees and my back against the rock. Bishop hovered to my side, making quick mental calculations while he tapped his forehead with a finger.

"Use the invisibility spells woven into your armor," he said.

"What?"

"Your leather cuirass has invisibility spells woven into it – use them," he insisted, poking at my chest for emphasis.

Quietly I wove the threads of the magic into the spells they were shaped for, weaving a cloak of invisibility around myself and then around Bishop. Right before he disappeared from view, he told me to meet him at the door.

We had discussed the plan of how to get into the tower before we got to this point, but I still wasn't convinced that I would truly remember how to pick a lock. He told me I had been the best he'd ever seen at opening that which can't be opened, but part of me wondered if he wasn't just saying that to boost my shaky confidence.

A set of lockpicks was shoved into my pocket, ready for tackling the tower door. As I strode up to the entrance, a wave of cold fear ran through me. I shoved it aside and kneeled in from of the door, examining the lock. The picks felt like an extension of my hand as I carefully placed them into the door. I listened closely to the sound of the tumblers as they came in contact with my picks. A few clicks later and it was done – the door was unlocked.

It seemed deceptively easy. I reminded myself that the giants didn't seem to be all that security conscious as I carefully pushed open the massive door and slipped in through a thin crack. At the edge of my strained hearing I heard a second rush of air as Bishop slipped through. He slowly closed the door, as we'd agreed.

A warm hand fumbled around for mine, and then we were running through the fortress. Up one hall, down another, up several flights of stairs and through a few rooms. A few of the rooms had clerics of Mnemosyne in them, but they didn't seem to notice us as we silently passed. One raised his head and sniffed the air, as if the breeze from our passage had disturbed him. Then he went back to his duties, forgetting the momentary disruption of his day.

We came skidding to a halt in front of an ornately carved double door, the large head of a woman adorning the center. In the flickering red light, she seemed to be looking at me. A chill spread over me for a reason I could not name. My head cocked, I stared for long minutes until I felt a sharp poke between my ribs. "The door!" hissed Bishop. Right. This door was locked too. Given the intensity of his poke, I figured this must be the place.

Down on my knee I went, lockpicks out again. This time I was quicker – the door was opened in a matter of seconds. But now I was no longer invisible. And the three spells stored in my cuirass were gone – two used to get us both to the door, and one used to make myself invisible again after opening the lock downstairs. I pushed the door open a crack and slid into the room beyond.

Ducking behind a pillar, I felt Bishop enter after me. I surreptitiously glanced around, looking for the Tormunath or anyone else who might be here. Machines hummed, filling the huge hall with a low drone that set my teeth on edge. To my right were rows and rows of gleaming round spheres, motes of light dancing inside each one. I found myself drawn to them. I reached out to touch one… and Bishop slapped my hand away.

"Do that and you'll be sucked into who's ever memory that is!" he growled. Let's find yours and get out of here."

We each started at one end and went down the rows, reading the carefully labeled slips of parchment sitting in front of each crystal sphere. Every time I heard a strange noise, or felt a breath of air across my neck I crouched and drew my sword. I kept expecting one of the giants to walk in. This hall had the air of a well used place, but it could have been the racket of the machinery that made it feel so.

I am not sure how long we spent, reading the names attached to those spheres. There were thousands of them. The lives of thousands of souls captured and displayed for anyone to see. Experiences of a lifetime – or a thousand lifetimes. Why put yourself in danger, when you could get the visceral feeling of it without leaving the comfort of your drafty tower? I shivered at the thought. I'd much rather be out there living than doing it vicariously through someone else.

After a tense half an hour, Bishop whistled. It was the sign we'd agreed on before hand if one of us should find the sphere. I ran, quietly, over to him and looked where he pointed. There was my name, written in a spidery scrawl on a scrap of parchment. And there was a crystal sphere, motes of light moving quickly around inside.

"How do I pick it up without activating it?" I asked. I hadn't thought of the question until right now. I wasn't sure it was going to be possible. Then, just as Bishop was getting a panicked look in his eyes, I spied a silk cloth on a nearby table. I grabbed it and using it as a barrier between my hands and the sphere, I picked it up. It was lighter than I'd thought which was good. Because the damn thing was big. It was going to be awkward carrying it out of here.

Struggling with the bulk of the orb, I managed to sling it to myself with some more silk that was lying around. I looked like a pregnant woman, and I caught Bishop eyeing me with what appeared to be mirth in his eyes. I glared daggers at him, and he abruptly sobered. "How do we get out of here? I have no more spells to shield us, and now I'll be walking like an ungainly cow," I hissed at him as we slunk towards the door.

He shrugged and put a finger to his lips. As he did, I heard it too. Footsteps. Coming closer. The massive doors began to open, silent for all their girth. Three giants walked in, and for a split second, I was convinced that they didn't see us. I was wrong. The oldest looking one turned his head in our direction, and we made a run for it. Bishop went in front, for he knew the way. I followed as best I could, trying to keep the orb from slipping and breaking on the marble floors.

The halls twisted and turned, and still we ran. A few minutes after we began our flight, a bell began pealing out, raising some sort of alarm throughout the tower. Bishop ducked through a room, and then into a narrow confined hallway. "Alternate route," he said behind him as he dashed along ahead of me. Still I ran, clutching the crystal to my stomach and trying not to bounce it too much against my abdomen.

Breath came harder, and my arms ached with the strain of holding the sphere. Then, Bishop came to a sudden halt in front of me. He flattened himself against the wall, and made a motion with his hand that urged me to do the same. It's hard to flatten yourself when you're carrying a large sphere, but I did my best.

Voices came from the room we had been about to enter. We strained our ears, trying to catch the sounds. At first they were guttural and I couldn't make them out. The language they were speaking was harsh and full of hard sounds. Bishop obviously didn't understand what they were saying, but he listened anyway. After a few minutes, the sounds began to form a pattern in my head, and something clicked and suddenly I understood.

"What's the alarm about this time?" asked one of the giants.

"I don't know. But it came directly from the memory vault. Something must be going on."

"I don't think the ones who rang the bells knew exactly what, though, because there were no instructions. Usually they have us meet somewhere, or block some exit, or something. This time, there was nothing."

The giants were silent for a few minutes, and then their conversation began again, but fainter, farther away. Quietly we crept into the kitchen, slinking low to hide behind the large tables in the center of the room. The door on the other side lead to the main hallway, which in turn lead to the foyer that would lead us out of here.

At the door to the hallway, we stopped, listening again. Nothing. The hallway was empty. So was the foyer. The front door beckoned, giving us a glint of hope that we might escape unscathed. Slowly we moved toward the door, straining for any sound out of the ordinary. The silence was in itself unnerving. It seemed wrong, somehow, for a keep full of giants to be this quiet. That was when I knew the game was up.

Still, we made our try. We got to the door and opened it. Fifty giants were standing on the other side, ringed around the entrance way, blocking our exit. We could have left the building, but they would have marched us right back in again. And fifty was only half their number.

"Shit!" I exclaimed, slamming the door behind us, heart hammering in my chest. "What now?" I turned to Bishop to see him retreated into the kitchen. I followed him.

To say the kitchen was large would be an understatement. The vast room was ringed with counters and preparatory surfaces. The center was occupied by large ovens and sinks and more counters. Bishop weaved between them all, honing in on a small door tucked away in the corner. He opened it and beckoned me inside.

The larder was dark and smelled of tubers. There was barely room for the two of us to stand, especially with the crystal sphere strapped around my waist. A few moments passed before I whispered, "Are we hiding?" At the same time, the sound of footsteps could be heard in the room outside, and Bishop put a calloused hand over my mouth.

The walls here were lined with shelves and bins, full of vegetables and other assorted foodstuffs. I turned slowly and quietly around, surveying the pantry. There was a section of the back wall that was devoid of any shelving or storage bins. I took a step, for that was all there was to take, and reached out a hand. The wall was smooth, but a section in the center had a line around it, as if it could be depressed. I pushed it.

A muffled clank came from behind the wall, and it slowly moved back. I found myself staring at a void in the floor. The smell of it, however, gave it away. The putrid smell of rotting food came up from the hole, along with a slight breeze. Bishop stepped towards the midden, looking from it to me. He placed a hand on my shoulder. Then he leaned down, his breath tickling my ear as he whispered, "I believe there's a door on the outside that connects with this. If we jump, perhaps we can escape."

"And if there's not?" I whispered back, clutching at his arm.

"There has to be. Can you feel the breeze? Besides, the alternative is to go out and greet the giants. I'm all for jumping." And with that, he removed his hand and jumped into the midden.

I waited, listening, for a few minutes. There was no sound from below, but out in the kitchen, it sounded as if the giants had discovered the pantry and were about to make their entrance. 'Damned if I do, damned if I don't', I thought, and jumped.


	31. Leaving the Giants Behind

Leaving the Giants Behind

I shuddered a little as we sprinted for the safety of the hills surrounding the tower. The garbage midden had smelled horribly bad, and we both now emitted that selfsame odor. The way out had meant swimming through the decaying matter in that pit towards a small door, and then _squeezing_ ourselves out through a small opening. It had been disgusting, wet and very smelly, and now _I_ felt disgusting, wet and very smelly. Luckily for us, the door had been on a different wall of the tower than the main door, and we had been able to sneak past the giants. Half of their number were still milling around in front of the massive stone doors, waiting for something to happen. A few times I thought for sure that they heard us, but we were lucky.

The crystal with my memories was still strapped to my chest, covered by my jacket as much as I could manage. Still, my sprint was more of a lumbering lope across the landscape. Rocks of a big enough size to shelter us were ahead, and once we reached them we collapsed, panting with exertion at our stealthy escape.

"What now?" I asked as I gasped for breath in the thick air of Carceri.

Bishop looked lost in thought. I don't know if he'd even come up with a plan for our escape, so I let him sit there and stew with it for a while. After my breathing had calmed down and my heart no longer beat a fierce staccato in my ribcage, he answered.

"I think… I think we should try the deva again."

"Deva. What's a deva? How will it help us?" I asked, completely perplexed. The name didn't bring up any familiar images or feelings. My mind was just blank. Usually I had a feeling about something – like Bishop and the spells in my mage's book. Somehow I had known that Bishop could be trusted when I first saw him on that river bank. And the spells? Well, they had traveled familiar and worn paths through my body as I cast them, and they felt comfortable and right.

Bishop's expression was one of surprise followed by consternation. "Dammit, I forgot about that!" he swore. He peaked around the rock we were hiding behind and his eyes grew wide. "Time to go," he said as he swiped up his backpack and began walking swiftly towards the secret door. "We've got company coming."

We sprinted towards that hidden door as if hell itself were on our heels. It probably wasn't far from the truth. On the other side, a trail stretched before us, climbing slowly up the mountainside. Bishop pointed up and headed up at a jog. The dog showed up out of nowhere and settled into pace behind him. Somewhere behind me I heard the sound of scores of large feet pounding the earth as the giants made their way towards us. A race it would be, it seemed.

The trail was long and steep in places. The thick Carcerian air made jogging sheer torture after half an hour, but still Bishop ran. Behind us came the giants, their slow but inexorable progress obvious to us both. I had no idea where we were going, but Bishop did. He ran that trail like he knew it well. There were times I balked at running and slowed down. I just couldn't bring my self to cavalierly run along while a 5,000 meter drop off careened away to my left.

After a while, all that existed was the trail, stretching up before me and the sound of my breath coming hard. The whole of my existence had been narrowed down to placing one foot in front of the other and breathing. The sphere I carried grew heavier and heavier, and I was tempted to just drop the damn thing over the edge of the cliff and be done. But something at the back of my mind said that would be a very bad idea – so I kept it tied tightly to my midriff.

The trail widened and flattened and I could hear running water. I saw Bishop stop, hands on his knees; breathing hard. As I caught up to him I saw a clearing. A waterfall cascaded into a clear pool at the base of the cliff. Next to the waterfall stood a being that was as radiant as the sun.

"And so you return to me, changed," it said. "I see that your hearts are different, but is it enough?" It looked bemused, as if this were some long running joke between it and Bishop. I of course, had no clue what was going on. But I could hear the giants behind us, and knew the jig was up.

"What now?" I hissed at Bishop, my voice catching in my throat. "We've come all this way and it's a dead end. Is that thing going to help us? Or are we flinging ourselves off the cliff and hoping for divine intervention?"

"Unwrap the crystal," he said, walking towards the pool. "Touch it."

"You might not want to do that," said the being by the pool. It held up a hand and closed its eyes, and the luminescence died down a little. A beam of light shot out from its hand and enveloped both Bishop and me. I could feel something probing at my mind. Something within me rebelled, fighting the invader. It pushed harder. I knew I couldn't hope to fight it off and I let it in. Then the light was gone, and the deva was smiling.

"I have a bargain to make with you, Kelina Amphrael. You and your companion seek passage off this plane. You shall have it, for you meet my requirements. But the cost is that crystal sphere. Touch it, and you must remain here. Leave it, and you can step through the portal behind me to somewhere else." Then she stood there, the patience of angels in her countenance, and waited for us to make our decision.

Bishop was shocked. Shocked and pissed off, all at once. "What?" he asked. "She can't have her memories back?"

"It is hers to choose. Memory or salvation. You may step through the portal at any time. You have discovered something about yourself here on this plane. But Kelina must choose. Since you are bound to her by your own decision, her choice will decide for you both."

My choice. Remember who I was and be damned for all eternity to a stinking, red prison plane, or start over somewhere else. My choice. I looked at Bishop. "Do you have anything to say?" I asked him.

"It's your choice," he grumbled. He looked away, to the deva, and then back to me. Two strides and he was at my side, his rough hands holding mine. "This place isn't anyplace to stay. But the cost is great – you won't remember anything of your past. Maybe that's good, maybe it's bad. Your past defines you – makes you who you are. Without it you will be someone else. You won't remember our past together. But… I can accept that, if it means we get the hell out of here."

I looked from him, to the deva, and back to the giants who were now rounding the bend and approaching us quickly. There was no more time. I took the swath of silk, wrapped up the crystal sphere and left it in the clearing. Bishop and I walked hand in hand towards the deva.

"We're ready. Open the portal."

"You have made a wise choice, Kelina Amphrael." A beam of pure yellow shot out from her finger, and a dancing pool of light appeared in the rock behind her. "Where you go is not without its dangers, but it is far better than remaining in Carceri. Stay true to your path, and your lives will be full. Stray, or return to what you were, and I shall find you and bring you back. And there will be no more escape for you. You have been given this one chance to undue the wrongs you wrought in your life."

"How can I know that I'm not returning to my evil ways if I don't even know what they are?" I shouted. The sound rising from the portal was deafening.

She pointed at Bishop. "He will know. You are bound together now. For if you stray, I shall bring you both back. Go!" With a waving motion of both hands, she dismissed us. I felt a surge of energy hit me, knocking me back through the portal.

We stood up together, after having been knocked to our feet during the transit. Woozy, I looked around to see where we'd gone. A vast cavern greeted me, the sounds of water dripping in the distance and echoes telling me that we were underground. Around us were other portals, each a shimmering gateway to somewhere else. A floating skull came towards us, intending to confront us it seemed.

"What the hells?" Bishop said, looking around. "How is this better than Carceri?"

"Do you know where we are?" I asked, my eyes still on the floating bonebox coming our way.

"No. Your old self would probably know, or at least have a guess. Looks like we'll have to find out the old fashioned way."

The skull had stopped in front of us, a rictus of a grin on its face. "Questions?" it asked. It bobbed up and down and from side to side, making it difficult to focus on the damn thing.

"Yeah. Where in the hells are we?" growled Bishop, his hand tightening on a knife he'd drawn from his belt.

A deep rumble of laughter came from its mouth, and its grin seemed to be mocking us. "You don't know? You really don't know? Well, I suppose stranger things have happened. You're in Undermountain. The glorious realm of the mad mage Halaster. He bids you welcome." The skull floated away, its laughter echoing off the stalactites and through the damp air.

"Undermountain? What's that?" I asked Bishop. Turning to look at him I saw amusement and anger warring on his face.

"It's a dangerous place," he answered slowly. "I don't know if we actually are any better off than we were before. But I'll tell you something," he turned to me, a lopsided grin on his face. "At least we know there's an escape here. Look at all these portals. We could go through any one of them, I bet, and find ourselves someplace else."

"Do you know where they lead?" I asked, stepping closer to one and examining it. The energies swirled and mixed, giving off a malevolent air. Another one gave a different, but no less dangerous feeling when I stepped near it.

"No."

"What about Undermountain? Is there a way out?"

"Supposedly there are entrances in Waterdeep. We could make our way upward and see if it's true. But it won't be easy. We'll have to be on our guard. We can make it though, as sure as we draw breath."

"Lead the way," I responded, giving up the idea of traveling through the portals. They seemed full of raw, malignant power. It was familiar and it called to me, but the words of the deva rang throughout my head: 'stray but a little, and I will pull you back…' I had seen enough of Carceri, even though I had forgotten most of it. I had no desire to return. So I would follow Bishop, and hope that we could find our way out of this place. Once we got to the surface, we'd see about making a life for ourselves.

THE END


End file.
